Enduring Legends
by CinaLily
Summary: Reincarnation!fic. Gwen Smith had enough going on with just her residency program to deal with. She really didn't need being the reincarnation of Queen Guinevere added to the mix. NO S4 Spoilers! Daily updates.  A/G, Merlin/Lancelot, Gwaine/Elena
1. The Ring,  Sunday

A/N: This section was written by Miroslav

In which Gwen finds something unexpected in the attic when she is home for Thanksgiving.

_Sunday, November 27, 2011_

"You don't have to do this, you know," her father said from the doorway, watching Gwen struggle with the packing tape.

Gwen ignored him for a moment. The packing tape was being particularly obnoxious, crumpling and sticking to her fingers instead staying on the box she was trying to tape shut. She bit her lower lip, frowning in frustration, and reached for the scissors.

"Dad, we've already had this conversation," she said as she snipped away the unsalvageable piece of tape and tossed it into the half-full trashcan. "You want to rent out the guest bedroom, I want to help you get it ready, end of the story."

"I just worry that you'll-" her father began.

"Burn myself out?" Gwen interrupted, keeping her voice gentle. She smiled up at her father. "If getting through undergrad in three years and going straight into med school didn't burn me out, I think I'll survive cleaning out a few rooms."

Tom sighed, looking unhappy. "But it's Thanksgiving. You should be relaxing."

"Thursday was Thanksgiving, this is just the Sunday after," Gwen said with a shrug. She smiled again. "Besides, it's fun going through the closet. Remember when I was a Girl Scout? I just found a bag full of my old badges."

Her father raised an eyebrow, a reluctant smile easing the concerned lines on his face. "I thought those were supposed to go _on _your vest."

"They were." Gwen adopted a solemn look, though she was certain her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Seven-year-old me is _very_ disappointed in us."

Tom chuckled. "Well, tell seven-year-old you I apologize." He waved a hand at the mess of scattered items and the few boxes Gwen had packed with odds and ends. "Did you need any help?"

"Could you take the boxes out into the hallway? I'll take them up to the attic myself," Gwen said.

This time he didn't protest—they both knew the worn old rungs of the attic ladder couldn't bear a man's weight. It was one of the reasons Gwen had wanted to clean out the guest room while she was here for the holiday. She was still doing her residency, which left little time for helping her father any other weekend.

"Fine, you clean to your heart's content. Just let me handle the guest bathroom." He held up a quelling hand before she could protest. "Consider it a compromise."

"Okay," Gwen said, laughing. "Deal." She hadn't been looking forward to cleaning the bathroom anyway. It was rarely used, and just thinking about the rings in the tub made her shudder. She paused in packing for a moment, watching as her father hefted one of the boxes into his arms. "Hey, have you heard from Elliott lately?"

He frowned, puzzled. "He sent me a postcard from, uh, Toronto, I think it was, two or three months back. Something about a new job involving 'communications.'" His voice went a little dry on the last word, and Gwen fought back a grin. They both knew that job would be lucky to last a month, if that. Tom shrugged. "Otherwise, nothing. Why? Did he seem off at his mother's when you visited?"

"He didn't come home for Thanksgiving," Gwen said. She nodded at Tom's surprised look. "Exactly! And when I was asked, Mrs. Smyth made the same old excuse about him being busy. He's _never _missed a holiday without telling me before. Well, not since our agreement."

"I don't know what to tell you, sweetheart," Tom said. "Elliott's-" He hesitated, and Gwen sighed.

"I know," she said a little wearily.

Even when she'd met Elliott on her first day of kindergarten ("we Smiths have to stick together," the memory of his voice whispered in her head), he'd been restless and twitchy. That restlessness had translated into him leaving their small town for college and never really looking back.

Still, he'd always told Gwen when he wouldn't be home for the holidays (which was more often than not). It was a compromise reached after one of their worst fights, the year after his stint with the Peace Corps, when Elliott hadn't bothered to let anyone know he'd be missing Christmas. Elliott had called Gwen a worrywart and busybody, and Gwen had informed him that letting his best friend and his mother know that he wasn't dead was just basic human decency.

"I hope he's all right," she said, frowning and worrying her lower lip with her teeth. After a second, her lip began to sting and she let out a quiet sigh. "I sent him an email Friday, but he hasn't responded."

"Well, I'm sure he's fine," Tom said after a beat of silence. She had no doubt that he would have given her a pat on her shoulder if his arms hadn't been full. He settled for an encouraging smile. "Call if you need anything."

"Sure thing," Gwen said. She pushed her worries about Elliott firmly from her mind. She'd send another email before bed, this one marked urgent. Maybe that would get his attention.

_***EL***_

The attic was dusty and smelled of mildew and mold. Gwen tried to breathe through her mouth as she hauled the first of a half-dozen boxes up the rungs. The muscles in her shoulders protested, but she ignored them. The boxes weren't _that_ heavy.

She brought up the boxes, one by one, and shoved them into the empty corner of the attic. The rest of the space was filled with boxes marked _Gwen's Toys, Gwen's Old Clothes,_ and _Lynne's Things_. Gwen drifted over to the last box, drawn to it in spite of the pain that always tightened her chest at the memory of her mother.

It wasn't difficult to peel away the tape even if it did make an awful crackling noise. The attic's lone light flickered above her as she peered into the box. There was her mother's favorite scarf, the gold and purple one that Tom had always said made her look like a movie star.

Gwen pulled out the scarf, pressed it to her cheek. Even twelve years later, she could swear that her mother's favorite perfume still clung to the fabric, a sweet, fragrant scent that had always reminded Gwen of spring.

She looked into the box and blinked. Pulling out the scarf had apparently revealed an unfamiliar jewelry box. It couldn't be her mother's wedding and engagement rings, Gwen knew; her father kept those on a necklace around his neck. Curious, she picked up the box, small enough to hold either a ring or a pair of earrings.

She opened it. There, nestled in the pale blue velvet, was an unfamiliar ring. "Oh," Gwen breathed, pulling it out and holding it up closer to the light. It was beautiful- silver and delicately crafted, with a few engravings of flowers and two small purple stones.

The lone flickering light bulb hurt her eyes suddenly, and she closed them. The attic was too warm; she swallowed, her throat tight, her mouth dry. Maybe she should head downstairs and get a drink.

"Gwen," someone said behind her, and she whirled to face the intruder, her hands raised defensively. That hadn't been her father's voice.

There was no one there.

Adrenaline tasted bitter on her tongue as she stared at the dust motes falling gently through the air. She took in a deep, shaky breath. The ring pressed painfully into her palm.

"Gwen," the voice said again, and she spun again to face him. Again, there was no one there, but the voice had sounded around her age, and male.

"Dad?" she called, or tried to. It came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Dad!"

"Gwen," the voice whispered in her ear.

She whirled once more, her shoe catching on one of the many boxes scattered around. She stumbled forward, arms reaching out to brace her fall-

_Arms enfolded her, and a familiar voice chuckled in her ear. "I know you're always glad to see me, but this is a little much," he said._

_She smiled in spite of the blush warming her cheeks. "I tripped," she protested, half-laughing. "Don't flatter yourself too much."_

_He stepped back, pressing a hand to his chest as though she'd wounded him with her words. Now she could see his face, the handsome features, the amusement sparkling in his brown eyes, the way a teasing smile tugged at his lips. "You wound me, Gwen, you really do," he announced._

_"Forgive me, my lord," she said contritely, dipping into a deep curtsey and smiling up at him. "Shall I do something to ease your suffering?"_

_Something shifted in his face then, the amusement leaving his face. He took her hand in his, pressed it to his chest so that she had to step closer to keep her balance. "Yes," he said quietly. This close, she could see the tightness in his jaw, how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He met her eyes, flustered in a way she'd never seen him. "Gwen," he said, and hesitated. Then, still clasping her hand, he knelt in front of her. "Guinevere, I want-"_

"Gwendolyn!"

Her father's voice rang through the attic, and Gwen blinked.

"Gwen, are you all right?" Her father sounded concerned, as though he'd been calling for a while.

"I," she said, the word rasping its way past her lips. She cleared her throat. She felt too-warm still, almost feverish, and when she pressed a hand to her forehead, sweat beaded her fingers. "I'm coming down!" she called, hearing the hoarse quality of her voice. "I think I got a little overheated, that's all. I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

"Sit down and rest for a second," Tom called. "I'll get you a glass of water, and then we'll get you down the rungs." She heard his footsteps retreating.

She was still clutching the ring, she realized. Slowly, she unfurled her fingers, unsurprised to find that the ring had left indentations of flowers in her palm.

Gwen took in a breath, and then slowly exhaled, her mind filled with a million questions.

First and foremost, however: What had just happened?


	2. Origins, Monday

In which there are explanations.

A/n: Welcome to Enduring Legends, an Advent series that started on November 27th and will continue daily through Christmas Day.

This is a joint writing project between Miroslav and LilyAyl, also known as Cinaed and Ailelie in other places. The story is an ensemble slice-of-life written in real time (with a few exceptions).

Warning: This story will contain male-female friendships, het, slash, stand-in fathers, happiness, worry, parent-child relationships, love, and magic.

This is not Arthur's great return. This is that one time Merlin's botching of the spell (or Arthur's concentration-piercing yelling) made them reincarnate and regain their memories in America (of all places).

This story will also contain images. Keep an eye on our profile for links.

(PS: This section was written by LilyAyl)

_Monday, A long, long time ago_

Someday Albion would need Arthur again.

Before the serpent—

Before Mordred—

Before that _damned cave_—

Merlin worked a great magic to ensure the land would one day again have her king. The spell would ensure Arthur (and Merlin, since he did not trust Arthur to keep himself alive in any age without him around) would reincarnate life after life, regaining their memories of Camelot only when the need was greatest.

Under decent circumstances (a quiet-ish day during an eclipse), the spell would have worked perfectly.

However, attempting the spell while sick with Arthur bellowing from the courtyard and Gwen whispering through the door that he needed to _move_ and _now_ if he'd intended on hiding from Arthur for the duration of his illness, though honestly, the squirrel tail had been rather cute and it wasn't like anyone outside of them and the knights had seen—

Well, Merlin should have realized it would end in disaster.

They still reincarnated, unaware, age after age. Only, instead of 'they' meaning only him and Arthur, 'they' apparently comprised _everyone_. He'd also mangled the memory trigger. Merlin was just surprised it had taken them this long to all wake up.

Someday Albion would need Arthur again.

But not yet.


	3. The Email, Tuesday

A/n: This section was written by Ailelie.

In which we meet Ambrose, David, and Arthur. Ambrose receives some upsetting information from David.

_Tuesday, November 29 2011_

The email was waiting for Ambrose as soon as he switched on his work computer. He managed to resist the temptation of the small blue icon in the corner of his screen long enough to check how big a mess Arthur had left for him in his office. Papers covered the desk and part of the windowsill, but the piles seemed more method than madness, so Ambrose just neatened them and let them be. Then he stuck a post-it to Arthur's computer reminding him that his uncle wanted to meet with him and returned to his desk and email.

With a quick glance that no one was around to tattle on him again, Ambrose opened up his personal email account. The sender name brought an immediate and broad smile that was quickly narrowed in concern when he noticed the subject line.

They're taking him.

_Oh, David_, Ambrose thought as he opened the email. Ever since the death of his ex-girlfriend, David had been engaged in a long custody battle with Lainie's parents for his son, Shea. Until the matter was settled fully, Shea's grandparents' favorite tactic was distance. They moved; David chased. Christmas was to be no exception, it seemed.

Ambrose hit reply and asked where they were stealing Shea away this time. His email pinged more quickly than he expected. The subject line read "FRANCE." The body was blank. Ambrose winced.

"When?" he wrote back.

David did not reply. The office was filling up, so Ambrose minimized the screen and switched over to the task he'd put off from the previous day — organizing professional development for the schedule changes coming in the fall.

At half eight, Ambrose hit the speed dial on his phone.

"I am going to kill you," Arthur groaned.

"It's eight-thirty."

"You take far too much joy in these calls, Ambrose."

Ambrose grinned. "Most bosses don't make their admins do wake-up calls."

"Most bosses don't have admins who are completely worthless for doing anything else," Arthur countered.

"Eight thirty-one. Are you even out of bed yet?"

"Good-_bye_, Ambrose."

"I'll see you soon, then?" The only reply was the sound of Arthur hanging up.

Not long after hanging up with Arthur, Ambrose noticed that David had finally written back. Apparently his simple question of when Shea would be leaving for the holiday had broken some dam in David's frustration. The email was massive. Ambrose started reading and managed a full paragraph before he had to push away from his desk and move around. If a father wanted to be with his kid on Christmas, he believed that father should get at least one damn hour of the holiday, especially when the dad in question was someone like David. Ambrose returned to his desk and the email.

He was reading about Shea's artistic abilities and David's feelings of displacement when a scarf fell across his monitor and slithered down his keyboard.

"Slacking off again, Ambrose?" Arthur was unbuttoning his coat by the rack.

"You're late." Ambrose rolled the tossed scarf into a ball.

"It's nine."

"Nine oh five," he replied, throwing the scarf at Arthur's head. Conversation with Arthur was easy and well-practiced. It was also a nice distraction.

Arthur caught it. "Five minutes is not late."

"It is according to your father."

Arthur draped the scarf over his coat. "According to my father I should have fired you ages ago."

"Did you remind him he's the one who hired me?"

The corner of Arthur's mouth pulled into a smile. "As a physics tutor. In high school. Not as a lifetime annoyance."

"I prefer to think of myself as the poor guy stuck with keeping you out of trouble."

"Excuse me?"

Ambrose chose not to take Arthur's tone as an insult, resolving instead to be late with his wake-up call the next day. "Your uncle wants to see you," he said, changing the subject.

"About?"

Ambrose shrugged. "I presume it has something to do with curriculum, considering his position."

"Yes, thank you. I did manage that much on my own. My question, however, was more about the specific topic of concern that required a meeting."

"I didn't ask."

"You really are the worst admin ever."

"One more year," Ambrose reminded him. He had a binary countdown clock running in one corner of his computer screen of how many days he had until he could apply to be a science teacher in one of the charter schools Arthur helped manage.

"I pity your students," Arthur said, starting to pull the door closed between them. Then he paused. "Call my uncle for me?"

"Of course." Ambrose waved the phone toward Arthur, but as soon as Arthur had closed his office door behind him, he set the receiver down and returned to David's email.

The latter half of the email explained the full event of how David had learned about the Christmas plans. One of Shea's drawings had sparked the conversation in the preschool hallway, apparently. Several of the other teachers had overheard and had been making comments to David about it since. The tone of the email teetered between appreciation for their concern and annoyance at their nosiness.

Shea would be leaving in early-mid December and would not be returning until after New Year's Day.

Ambrose clicked reply, but once the screen loaded, he did not know how to fill the white box intended for his letter with words. Everything he started typing felt insipid and inane. What comfort or understanding could he honestly offer? He minimized the screen without writing anything and returned to his work. He dialed the extension for Arthur's uncle and waited for his admin to pick up.


	4. The Dinner, Wednesday

A/n: This section was written by Miroslav.

In which Adam, Ambrose, and Gwen have dinner, which is complicated by Ambrose being distracted by his worry for David and Gwen being distracted by her worry about the events of Sunday.

_Wednesday November 30, 2011_

"She's late," Ambrose said. He turned a half-accusing look upon the kitchen clock, as though it was to blame.

Adam sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and stave off the headache he could feel forming. Ambrose had come home quiet and withdrawn the night before, barely saying more than two words to Adam before disappearing into his bedroom, and he'd apparently remained in the same mood today.

"Gwen isn't late," Adam pointed out mildly. He continued to set the table, folding the napkins carefully. "It's only 6:58."

"But she's usually early. And she calls if she's going to be late," Ambrose said. He nodded to himself, like he'd won the argument with his clever logic.

The dinner was going to be extremely unpleasant if Ambrose continued to sulk, Adam thought. It was time to nip his attitude in the bud before Gwen could arrive and be infected by it. "Ambrose, if you are this ill-tempered during dinner, I _will_ raise your rent," Adam said.

For a second Ambrose just stared at him, and then a reluctant smile ghosted across his features. He even relaxed a little, his hunched shoulders lowering slightly. "I don't remember that being in the rental agreement," Ambrose said.

"You missed the 'if you are rude, I increase your rent' clause? You really should read your contract more closely," Adam said with a pitying shake of his head. Then he softened his tone. Ambrose was almost always optimistic. In the time that Adam had known the young man, he'd rarely had a moment of despondency, that particularly bad month after his father had died not withstanding. There had to be something seriously wrong for Ambrose to be this miserable. "I don't know what's going on, but if you want to talk about it-"

The doorbell rang. Ambrose brightened, as though Gwen's arrival solved all of his problems, even as Adam wished Gwen hadn't been her usual prompt self. Ambrose raced to the front door, flinging it open.

"Sorry I'm late," Gwen said, sounding harried. When she stepped into the dining room, Adam could see that she too looked out of sorts, a strained smile on her face and smudges of exhaustion under her eyes. Still, her smile reached her eyes when she spotted Adam setting the last of the silverware on the table. "Adam, whatever's on the stove smells wonderful."

"Beef stroganoff," Adam said. "Just have a seat and I'll bring it out to you. Did you have a good Thanksgiving?"

Gwen hesitated, the earlier strain reappearing on her face. "It was…interesting," she said carefully. "Elliott didn't show up for Thanksgiving. I've emailed him three times and he still hasn't gotten back to me."

"Well, Elliott drops off the grid all the time, doesn't he?" Ambrose pointed out. He nudged her with one of his elbows, hard enough that she winced and shot him a warning look. "He'll email you with some interesting and possibly even true story in a couple days."

"I hope so," Gwen murmured, and sat down.

The meal was quieter than usual, with both Gwen and Ambrose being unusually pensive. Adam tried to fill up the silence with a few tales from his medical practice. Usually Gwen would respond with a few residency horror stories, or Ambrose would tell them about something awful that happened at his office. This time they both just smiled and nodded in the right places, barely paying attention and methodically eating.

About halfway through the meal, however, Gwen seemed to shake herself free from her thoughts. She shot a concerned look at Ambrose. "Is something wrong?" she asked, reaching over to pat his hand. "You seem quiet."

Ambrose sighed, his shoulders slumping. "It's David," he said. "Shea's grandparents are taking him to Europe for Christmas."

"Oh no," Gwen said with a quick, sympathetic gasp. "David must be upset."

Ambrose made a sound that might have been a laugh, if it hadn't been so grim. "Yeah." He was quiet for a moment, and then sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say to him. I can't imagine what it's like, not being able to see your own kid on Christmas. 'I'm sorry' just doesn't cut it."

"Invite him to your mother's, then," Adam said. "She'd love to see a little more of David."

Ambrose blinked at him, as though that idea had never occurred to him. Then again, this was Ambrose, so perhaps he _hadn't_ thought of it, had instead just brooded over David's predicament.

Ambrose started to smile, and then his face fell again. "I'd feel like I was profiting off David's misery. I mean, it'd be great to see David-" Two spots of color appeared in his cheeks, because everyone in the room had heard Ambrose bemoan their long-distance relationship multiple times, but he continued on. "-but I'd be using Shea being in France to my own advantage."

"Don't be stupid," Gwen said fondly. "You have two choices. Either you don't invite David and you two can be miserable for the holidays, or you _can_ invite him and at least David will have one person he cares about with him on Christmas."

Ambrose frowned, but didn't argue, looking thoughtful.

"For what it's worth, I think Gwen's right," Adam said. He added, a little dryly, "And I doubt David would see your invitation as a selfish offer. He knows you better than that."

"Okay, I'll ask him," Ambrose said, looking decidedly more cheerful. He turned his attention on Gwen. "Now what's wrong with you? And don't say Elliott- he's disappeared for an entire two weeks before and you didn't look this frazzled."

Gwen bit her lip and gazed down at her plate. "I'm just a little tired," she said. "Going from relaxing during Thanksgiving break to going back into the full swing of my residency is taking some adjustment, that's all."

It was Ambrose's turn to pat her, squeezing her shoulder and grinning sympathetically. "You know, you _can _cancel on us if you need an evening to catch up on some sleep," he told her. "Adam and I won't take offense."

"Not at all," Adam agreed. "I remember my residency all too well."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gwen said with a slight smile, and lifted her glass of water to her lips.

After dinner, though, Ambrose having been volunteered by Adam to do the dishes, Gwen caught Adam's sleeve and said quietly, "Could I speak to you in private?"

Adam looked at her, taking in the strained look and her paled knuckles. "Of course," he said, and drew her into the living room, out of Ambrose's hearing range.

"I think I'm…I think my residency is getting to me," Gwen said in the same soft voice. She began to pace, her voice low and urgent. "I've been having these dreams- and a-" She stopped and turned to face Adam, meeting his eyes. "I think I had a hallucination on Sunday," she said, voice matter-of-fact. Her features were set, her gaze unflinching. Only her trembling hands, clasped in front of her, betrayed her anxiety.

"Gwen," Adam said quietly. He gestured for her to sit down on the couch. When she did, he sat next to her and took her hand in his. He was silent for a moment, pondering how he should handle this. He'd always been impressed with Gwen's drive. She'd gotten through her undergrad studies in three years and seemed intent on moving forward until she was an internist, but he knew that Tom was constantly worrying for her and that residency was wearying. Adam frowned. "Does Tom know?"

"No," Gwen said quickly. "No, I-" She took a shaky breath. "You're the first one I've told. I thought- you might know how to handle this without worrying my dad."

Adam squeezed her hand. "Well, let's start at the beginning," he said, smiling gently at her. "When did these symptoms start?"

"Sunday," Gwen said, and told him everything- about the voice, and then the hallucination, and finally the dreams that had come every night since, memory-like dreams that fragmented and half-dissolved as soon as she woke up.

Adam was silent for a moment after she finished. In the kitchen, he could hear Ambrose singing tunelessly, some melody so off-key that Adam couldn't even guess at the song's name. He kept Gwen's hand in his. "Well," he said. "I think we should take this slowly and investigate. For one thing, I know the past few months have been particularly strenuous for you- you were tired long before Thanksgiving break. Let's get you on some sleeping aids, see if actually getting a couple weeks of proper rest helps. And I think I'll schedule a visit this week to Tom's, check out the attic for myself, see if there's any mold or something that might cause hallucinations. We'd been talking about a future visit, so he won't think it's suspicious."

Gwen smiled and hugged him. "Thank you," she said into his shoulder. "Just- don't tell Ambrose or Tom?"

"I won't," he promised, "though I think you can trust Ambrose with this."

Gwen laughed, a little watery sound. "Probably," she agreed. "But I think I'll wait until he's talked to David and made Christmas arrangements. He already has a lot on his plate."

Adam shook his head and smiled. "Sometimes you're too considerate for your own good, you know," he said, and she laughed again.

"Well," she said, rising and swiping quickly at her eyes. "I think I'll go try and get some sleep."

"Come by my office tomorrow and I'll write you a script," Adam said.

Gwen nodded. The strain was still there, but most of the tension had faded from her body. "Ambrose!" she called, switching on her cheerfulness like switching on a light. "Quit butchering that song and come walk me to the door!"


	5. The Phone Call, Thursday

A/n: This section was written by LilyAyl/Ailelie.

A/n 2: Still playing catch-up. Once we get the first 12 or so days posted, we'll be on a regular 1 a day schedule.

In which Gwen receives an unexpected phone call just as she's about to fall asleep.

_Thursday, December 1 2011_

Gwen answered the phone with a yawn. She'd taken the pills Adam had prescribed about twenty minutes prior and was starting to feel the lazy warmth creeping along her limbs and the weight growing in her head. For the first time that week she felt both tired at the proper time and ready to sleep.

The voice that replied was both familiar and unexpected. Gwen pushed up from her pillow with surprise. "Elliot?"

"This a bad time, Gwen?" he asked. "I can call back."

"No, no," Gwen said, forcing herself first to sit, and then stand. With Elliot, "back" was as likely to mean the next month as it was the next day. "Now's fine." Her head felt loose on her neck, as though tied on with a string.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. So where were you? Thanksgiving, I mean. You didn't even call."

"On the offensive already, Gwen?"

Gwen rubbed her forehead, regretting the misstep. She wandered into her kitchen and switched on her hot water kettle. "I missed you."

"Me too. I just got off the phone with my mom. Things are going to change, Gwen."

"Heard that before." She yawned and measured out some tea, her phone pinched awkwardly between her shoulder and ear.

"Okay, what is going on?

"I'm just tired," Gwen said. She stirred her strainer, watching the water turn brown. Anna had caught her making tea like this once, back when they'd been roommates. She'd not said anything right away, but she'd bought Gwen a guide to making tea and a proper tea pot the next month for her birthday. It was entirely Anna's fault she used loose leaf these days, instead of bags.

"Your dad seemed worried." He spoke slowly, shades of 'big brother' coloring his tone. She could tell he wasn't going to let this go.

"My dad is always worried." Gwen leaned against her counter and blew on her tea. Elliot didn't say anything. Gwen yawned again, too tired to fight. "It's just bad dreams."

"Gwen."

"Tell me your news."

"I got a job," he said, but without his earlier excitement. "What kind of bad dreams, Gwennie?"

"What kind of job, Ellie?" Gwen countered. She concentrated on the warmth of the mug in her hands, rather than that which was stretching like a cat along her arms and legs. She wanted to lie down. She took another sip.

"Think I'll hold that ransom until you tell me about these dreams."

"They're just dreams," Gwen said, frustration sharpening each word.

"And do all your dreams get you this worked up?" Elliot asked. "Even when—" he stopped, but Gwen could fill in the blanks. Her grip tightened on her mug. Even when her mother had died, she'd functioned and coped, because she'd had to. It wasn't like her to be this worked up over dreams, or anything.

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you used to," she said.

"Gwen—"

"How long has it been since we've seen other? You called in for the holidays last year, too." She took a drink too quickly, and hissed at the burn in her throat.

"I got a job with AmeriCorps."

Gwen put down her mug and rubbed at her eyes. "You can't keep volunteering and temping your way through life. Eventually—"

"I know," Elliot interrupted as she yawned. "They've hired me as a volunteer coordinator. I'll help new kids adjust, check in with sites, keep things on schedule, and pitch in on occasion. Salaried and everything. I'm going to try sticking in one place for a while."

"Where?"

"I know you're busy, Gwen, but how'd you like to grab lunch together sometime? Say, weekly?"

Gwen leaned up from the counter, surprise filling her with momentary wakefulness. "You're moving here?"

Elliot laughed. "I'll be there Sunday after next. Already got an apartment and everything. That's what I was doing over Thanksgiving, actually. Arranging everything. Feel like helping me move in?"

Gwen smiled and picked up her tea for another drink. "Send me your address and call me when you get close."

"I'm looking forward to it. We can plan more later. I'll call you back."

There was that "back" again. "Tomorrow," she said. "Call tomorrow."

"Will do. Sleep well, Gwen. Sweet dreams."

Gwen mentally groaned, knowing more questions would come the next day. At least she got a night to think up answers. "Good night," she said. "I'll see you week from Sunday."

"Night."

Gwen hung up her phone and dropped it onto her counter. She looked down at her mug of cooling tea. Then, with a yawn, she dumped the tea into her sink and returned to her bed. With luck the pills still working through her system would shut out her dreams.


	6. The Performance, Friday

A/n: This section was written by Miroslav (aka Cinaed).

In which Gavin congratulates Elle after a performance and asks her a favor.

_Friday, December 2, 2011_

The lights dimmed as the curtains went down a final time, and then Gavin had to blink against the sudden brightness as all the house lights came on. People were already standing and heading towards the exits, most chatting about the performance, snatches of half-heard conversations filling Gavin's ears.

He fought against the crowd as he headed towards the stage, feeling like a fish trying to swim upstream. His gaze was fixed upon his target. Up on the stage, Elle had one arm slung across her understudy's shoulders, her face flushed from the lights and merriment.

"Now, just tell me-" Elle was saying, her voice slightly husky from over-use, then she spotted Gavin. She grinned for a second, and then stepped closer to the stage's edge, wagging a reproving finger at him. "Gavin! Don't think I didn't notice you sitting eight rows back, mister. I distinctly remember giving you a front row ticket to the final performance!" She paused, wrinkling her brow. "Or maybe I meant to give you one and left it in my purse all month."

Gavin grinned. "Yeah, I took the lack of a ticket as your way of telling me to stop freeloading off you," he drawled. "Besides," he added, assuming a mock-grave expression, "sitting in the first row was too much of a temptation. It was probably better this way."

Elle quirked an eyebrow. "Temptation?" she asked, tilting her head. "What temptation?"

This close, Gavin could see how her hair was plastered to her forehead from sweat, the way the make-up had long since smudged beyond repair on her face. It was ridiculous, he thought, how appealing that bedraggled look was on her. His fingers twitched at his sides, wanting to brush her hair out of her face.

"To slug Will when he kissed you in Act II," he said. He couldn't help but grin when Will squinted at him, apparently wondering if Gavin was serious.

Elle laughed a deep belly laugh that nearly overbalanced her. Only one of the other actors grabbing Elle's elbow and tugging her backwards kept her from tumbling off the stage and into Gavin's arms. "Oops!" She smiled sheepishly and took another step backwards. "Give me a second to change?"

"Sure thing," Gavin said, and watched her stumble as she turned and darted backstage.

Will shook his head. "I will never get how she's graceful on the stage, but starts tripping over her own feet as soon as the performance is over," he said.

Gavin shrugged, squashing a sudden swell of irritation. Will hadn't meant anything cruel, he knew. He forced a smile on his face. "That's Elle," he said, and then hauled himself onto the stage, rising to his feet next to a startled Will. "Think anyone'll mind if I go backstage?"

Cate snorted. "Not as long as you two don't use her changing room to-"

"Cate!" Will snapped. He rolled his eyes at Gavin as Gavin resisted the urge to laugh. Judging by Will's scandalized look, it was probably best not to mention that Gavin and Elle had made out once or twice in the changing room…and on stage…and in the box office during the opening night after-party when they'd been too drunk to drive to Elle's apartment. "Ignore her- mind in the gutter."

Gavin waved a hand. "Great performance, by the way," he said, only half-listening to Will's thank-you.

"I'm not decent, but come in anyway!" Elle said when he knocked on the door.

Gavin poked his head in, raising his eyebrows and grinning at her struggling to get her head and arms into her sweater. He caught a flash of bare skin as her turtleneck rose slightly as she thrashed around. He stepped inside, catching her by the shoulders. "Let me," he said.

"Thanks," Elle said, voice muffled. "Have I mentioned I hate all pull-over clothing?"

"Many times," Gavin said, laughing. He smoothed the sweater, his hands coming to rest on Elle's waist. He tugged her closer, grinning. "You were amazing, by the way."

She wrinkled her nose at him, grinning, pleased but uncomfortable, as she sometimes was with praise. "Thanks," she said again, and then leaned into him. She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "Want to go for drinks with everyone?"

"We can do that," Gavin agreed. "But I wanted to ask you something first."

Elle lifted her head to peer inquisitively into his face.

"You know the shelter I volunteer for," Gavin said. His throat tightened a little, as it always did lately when he told Elle half-truths. He was going to tell her that he didn't so much volunteer at the shelter as he did, well, _own_ it soon, really, he was.

Elle grinned. "Oh yes, the shelter you volunteer for," she said, placing enough emphasis on the second-to-last word that he blinked at her. Her expression was innocent though, just sweetly interested as she cocked her head to the side and waited for him to continue.

"Well, the shelter's owner saw one of your performances, and uh, liked it. A lot, actually." Gavin grinned at her. "He was wondering if you wanted to do a holiday show there."

"A holiday show?" Elle echoed. She pulled away, and he yelped when she punched him hard in the arm. "Your _shelter owner_ decided it was a good idea to wait until the last minute to ask me? It's already December! We have less than barely three weeks to get things together! I'll have to figure out what we can throw together so last minute, who would want to do it, what kind of costumes we'll need-"

"Is that a yes?" Gavin asked over her excited tangent, resisting the urge to rub his arm. Elle could hit hard when she wanted.

Elle beamed at him. "That's definitely a yes." She hugged him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Let's go across the street to the bar- I bet Will or Alice will have some great suggestions."

"Okay," Gavin said, and laughed as Elle tugged him towards the door.


	7. The Invitation, Saturday

A/N: This section was written by Miroslav.

In which Ambrose invites David to spend the holidays with him. (Ambrose/David)

_Saturday, December 3, 2011_

David's phone rang once, twice, and Ambrose found himself holding his breath in anticipation and eagerness as he circled the table.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he was pacing around like an idiot, but since he was saving up his entire daily dose of honesty for David, he told himself he was just exercising. Yeah, exercising had the texture of a nice, comforting lie.

David picked up on the fourth ring. "Ambrose?" David sounded surprised but pleased.

Despite his nerves Ambrose found himself grinning no doubt what Arthur would have called a big, goofy grin. "David," he said. "Did I catch you at a bad time? I can call back."

"No, I was just getting out of the shower," David said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I think my hair will survive not being blow-dried."

Ambrose nearly tripped over his feet at that particular image. "Oh, uh, yeah, that-" he managed to say, though it came out as a near squeak. He cleared his throat, glad that Arthur wasn't around to tease him on his red face.

"Look," he began, "I know I didn't say much in my email. I just…didn't know what to say. Sorry didn't seem strong enough. And what Shea's grandparents are doing is crap. You're an amazing father, David, and Shea's grandparents should be grateful that you're so great, not being assholes about custody."

"Thank you," David said quietly, when Ambrose paused to take a breath.

Ambrose wished he could see David's face. Someday he was actually going to convince David to let him set up Skype on his computer so they could actually see each other more often. He cleared his throat again, which had gotten annoyingly tight. "Anyways, the reason I was calling- not that I didn't want to speak to you, I always- I mean-"

"Ambrose, are you all right?" David asked. Concern and a bit of confusion had replaced the amusement. Ambrose didn't really blame him. He knew that he could trip over his words from time to time, but he normally wasn't _this _tongue-tied.

"Come stay with me for Christmas break," Ambrose blurted out, which was so not how he'd planned the invitation. He'd planned on easing into it, maybe saying something romantic. (He wasn't certain what would have been romantic, but he was sure he'd have come up with _something._)Apparently, his mouth had had other plans. "Uh, if you want to," he added.

"Stay with you?" David echoed in a tone Ambrose had no idea how to interpret.

"Well, with me at first, and then my mom," Ambrose said. "Classes end on the 14th, right? You could come into the city on Thursday or Friday, and then we'll spend some time together. Arthur's doing a holiday party on the 18th, so I figured we could leave Monday or Tuesday to see my mom-"

"Ambrose," David interrupted, laughing, and Ambrose stopped, realizing he'd been babbling. "I'd love to," David said, voice warm. "Your mom won't mind?"

Ambrose snorted. "Please, she loves you."

David chuckled. "Ambrose," he said again, this time softer, with a tenderness that made Ambrose's breath catch a little in his chest. "Thank you."

Ambrose was grinning stupidly again, he knew. He didn't really mind.


	8. The Coffee Break, Sunday

**Note: We posted two chapters at once. Make sure you read chapter 7, too.**

A/N: This section was written by LilyAyl

In which Gwen and Elle meet up for coffee, conversation, and confessions.

_Sunday, December 4 2011_

"Gwen!" Elle rose halfway from her chair, waving one hand over her head. She hit the edge of the table, nearly toppling her coffee cup. "Over here."

Gwen smiled and squeezed her way through the tiny café to the window-side table. It seemed everyone was trying to grab a bit of warmth before heading back out into the wind to continue shopping. Elle met her with a colliding hug that knocked Gwen back a step. "Careful, Elle."

"Sorry," Elle said, pulling back. "I'm in a good mood."

"Oh?" Gwen removed her coat and draped it and her scarf over the back of her chair.

"Our show had an excellent run, _and_ I had a great Thanksgiving." Her grin was infectious.

"I want details," Gwen said. "But after I get my latte."

"Go get caffeinated." Elle waved her toward the counter as she sat back down at the table. "I'll keep saving our seats."

"Back in a moment." Gwen went to the counter and gave her order for a cinnamon latte as she waited for her turn at the register to pay. The guy in front of her had trouble with his card and ended up taking so long, that by the time Gwen reached the other end of the counter, her drink was waiting.

Gwen took in the comforting smell of the coffee with a soft sigh and returned to Elle. "So," Gwen said, as she sat down, "tell me about this wonderful week you've had."

"Well," Elle started, "you saw our first performance. It just got better. The final performance was completely packed. You could hear the audiences laughing all the way from the _dressing rooms_. The sets worked perfectly. And you should have seen Will. This was his first major role and he just _killed _it. I love performing." Elle's smile was distant, as though she was remembering the stage. Her hair was a mess from the wind outside and her buttons looked to be off by one, but Gwen envied the easy happiness of her smile.

"I know," Gwen said, fondly. "How about Thanksgiving?"

Elle bit her lip as though holding in a secret. "Wonderful," she said. "Gavin came over."

"Really? Had he met your family before, or—"

"First time," Elle confirmed. "Well, nearly so. He'd met my brother before, but this was the first time for my parents and, well, everybody all together. I think Claire has a crush on him."

"How was it?" Gwen sipped her latte.

"He fit right in," Elle said, sounding both gleeful and amazed. "He and Daniel got along well. He helped Claire with her history homework and joined in when we teased Enid about her new boyfriend. I beat him twice at poker after dinner, so he ended up having to help my dad do dishes."

"I bet he enjoyed that."

Elle rested her chin on one hand. "You know, I really think he did. At least, he left the kitchen grinning. I'm so glad I decided to invite him."

Gwen laughed. "I'm glad it worked out well."

"Me too. With luck," Elle said, holding up crossed fingers, "I'll get to meet his family for Christmas. He's very secretive about them for some reason. So, how about you? How was your holiday?"

"It was good," Gwen said, carefully concentrating only on Thursday. "My dad and I made dinner together. We watched the parade, then _Miracle on 24__th__ Street_, and then the Ravens-49ers game."

"You only watched one of the games?" Elle sounded horrified. "But the match-ups were fantastic this year." She gestured broadly with her hands. Gwen slid her cup out of the way just before she knocked it over. "You should have seen the Dolphins-Cowboys game. When Bailey made that final field goal—" Elle shook her head. "I couldn't believe it. It was amazing. Daniel was _so pissed_ when his team lost."

Gwen shrugged. "I don't really follow football."

"You should though. It's epic. So how was the rest of your weekend?"

"It was okay. I got some shopping done. Dad and I did some housecleaning." Gwen could feel the too-warm attic again and hear the rough voice calling her _Guinevere_.

"Gwen? Gwen!" Elle was waving her hand in front of Gwen's face, trying to get her attention.

"Oh, sorry. Zoned out there for moment. So, has anything else happened recently?" She tried to change the subject.

Elle squinted at her, but thankfully didn't ask any questions. "Yes," she said. "Gavin's boss wants my theater group to do a Christmas show at the shelter."

"And he just now told you this?" Gwen asked, searching her memory for if Elle had mentioned the show before.

"Yep. Apparently a couple weeks is all the time needed to put together something that's quality."

"How horrible!" Gwen said, holding back a laugh. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, we'll do the show, obviously. The others and I talked it over last night. We've decided to do the Carol. Not because any of us particularly want to do the Carol again, but rather because we all at least know it. I've been a Cratchit, Belle, and one of the Ghosts, myself."

"Mmhm." Gwen twisted her ring around her finger. She'd put it on her left hand that morning, not even realizing she was wearing it until a patient had asked her how long she'd been married. She didn't know why she wore it.

"We'll have to practically quadruple-cast everything, especially since we're not sure how many can actually participate yet. We also don't have a script, so we've decided to improvise that a bit. I mean, we all know what the lines are supposed to convey."

"That should be interesting."

Elle rolled her eyes. "It will be an absolute mess, of course, but we're hoping to come out the other side of awful into something brilliant, or, at the very least, tolerable—Gwen, are you sure you're all right? You look like you're zoning out again."

"Sorry. I was distracted."

Elle looked around the crowded cafe. "By?"

"My own thoughts, I'm afraid. I'm just tired," Gwen said. She had grown very tired of the excuse, but she wasn't yet sure how to phrase the truth. I've been having dreams that seem more real than my life, she practiced mentally. I don't think they're just dreams anymore. I think I'm going crazy. She groaned and sipped at her latte.

"Gwen?"

"It's nothing. Tell me more about this performance."

Elle cocked her head at Gwen, then folded her hands on the table and shook her head 'no.' "I have a better idea," she said.

"Oh?"

"We're going to play a game."

Gwen looked around skeptically; she'd been party to Elle's games before. One had required a conversation of questions. Another had involved counting and keeping up a rhythm. The worst had involved singing, a funky chicken, and absurd motions. "Not really the place, Elle."

"You'll like this one," she said, flicking her hand. "Whatever we say next doesn't matter. We can't ask each other questions about it or make a fuss. Agreed?"

"Okay?"

"Good. I'll go first. I know Gavin and I haven't been seeing each other long, but I love him, am in love with him. Completely." She took a drink of her hot chocolate, dripping some onto the table from where the lid met the cup.

"Really? That's wonderful. Have you-"

"A-ah," Elle said, waving one finger. "No questions. Now. Your turn."

Gwen looked down and rolled her cup between her hands. "I dream that I am Queen Guinevere," she said, quietly. Elle leaned in; Gwen noticed her scarf pressing down over the drips of cocoa on the table. "They're too real. I can feel everything that happens in them." Finally she looked up at Elle. "I'm scared," she admitted with a shrug.

Elle's eyes were wide and her lips pressed together so that they barely showed. "Right," she said, leaning back. "See, I told you. A good game."

Gwen smiled weakly. "What should I do? I've been taking sleeping pills, but they've not been helping. I forget little things from before I go to bed- I had a whole conversation with a close friend of mine and I barely remembered any of it when he called me the next day. The dreams, though, they're always vivid. I can remember everything from them, even when I don't try to."

"Maybe they are real," Elle said.

"They can't be. Guinevere is a myth."

"Or real enough," Elle corrected. "It's like Scrooge's ghosts. I was in one performance in which we did the play as though the ghosts weren't real. Everything was just in Scrooge's head. His latent guilt and regret had finally piled up high enough that he had this incredible, mental experience. It was a very powerful show."

"I don't follow."

"Maybe your brain is making these dreams because it is trying to tell you something. Maybe they seem so real, because they mean something so important."

"But what?"

"I don't know. Write them down. Look for patterns."

"I can try. Now, do you want to tell me more about Gavin?"

Elle grinned. "I love him," she said. "What else do you need to know?"

"I'm very happy for you," Gwen said.

"Me too." Elle took a deep drink from her cup; a dribble of chocolate slid down her chin. She swiped it away with the back of her hand as she put her cup back down on the table. She tapped her phone on the table. "Well," she said, holding it up so Gwen could see the time. "I should probably get going. I've a party to attend tomorrow, and I haven't even bought a present yet. Want to come shopping with me?"

Gwen shook her head. "I'll finish this"—she tapped her lid—"and then head home. Start writing out my dreams."

"Good luck."

"You too." As Gwen watched Elle push uselessly against the exit before finally pulling it open with a sheepish smile, she thought about her own party which she'd be missing the next day. She still needed to wrap Ambrose's present and give it to Adam. Adam could give the present to Ambrose for her. Gwen drank the last of her latte, wishing she could be there to see his face when he opened the gift. He was going to love it.


	9. The Birthday Party, Monday

In which Ambrose has a birthday, Arthur spends too much money, and Gwen gives more than she expects.

Mostly gen with some Gavin/Elle and mentions of Ambrose/David and Ambrose/Arthur.

_Monday, December 5 2011_

"Are you sure this is where you want to eat?" Gavin asked, eyeing the restaurant warily.

The restaurant, if it could be called that, was in the middle of nowhere. A light pole outside the place flickered and glistened against the street.

"It's a dump," Arthur proclaimed, holding his thin jacket close around him.

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Whose birthday is it again? Come on, you won't find better steak tips in the entire city."

"He still considers this part of the city," Arthur said with mock-pity.

Ambrose turned, holding the door open. "Do you want to come in and eat, or would you prefer to stay out here whining?"

"I'm not whining."

Elle bumped Arthur's shoulder as she followed Ambrose into the restaurant. "Yes, you were," she said.

"I offer him dinner anywhere in the city," Arthur said. "And he picks something that looks like it was already old back in Adam's time."

"Nah," Gavin disagreed. "More Brady Bunch than radio drama, I think."

"Stop it," Elle said. She elbowed Gavin in the side. Gavin coughed and winced.

"Sorry, Ambrose," he choked out.

Ambrose turned to hide his smirk.

"Just the four of you?" a woman with a white pixie-cut hair and dark gray eyebrows asked. She was holding a stack of menus.

"Yeah," Ambrose said. "Unfortunately." He tapped his fingers over the top of his messenger bag. Adam had given him Gwen's gift just before he'd left the house.

"Would you prefer one of us leave?" Arthur asked. "I think it could be arranged. I assure you, my feelings would not be hurt." He was still looking around the restaurant skeptically.

"Don't be such a drama queen." Ambrose started following the woman to their table.

"Me? Excuse me, but who was the one throwing a fit over pens all last week?"

Ambrose stopped and whirled around to face Arthur. "Bic, Arthur. Do you even use ink pens anymore?"

"Sounds a bit domestic," the woman stage-whispered to Gavin and Elle. Gavin burst out with a sharp laugh.

"No, thank god," Ambrose said.

"Though," Arthur said, flashing the woman the same sort of smile he always used when he thought he was being clever. "I've been told that I'm really quite fetching."

"I was drunk," Ambrose moaned, collapsing onto his chair.

"There, there, Ambrose." Arthur patted his arm. "It's not your fault I'm just that irresistible."

"I hate you." Ambrose mumbled into his hands.

"Are they like this all the time?" the waitress asked.

"Unfortunately," Gavin said. He leaned over and blew out the candle in the center of the table as he sat down.

"You learn to enjoy it," Elle added. "It's like having your very own Punch and Judy show."

"He's Judy," Arthur and Ambrose said in unison.

The waitress laughed. "Well, let me get your drink orders and then I'll let you guys look over the menus."

They ordered waters all around. The waitress passed out the menus and left toward the kitchen.

"Get the steak tips," Ambrose said, leaning over the table. "They are the best I've had."

Elle shrugged and slipped her menu over Ambrose's. "I'm sold," she said.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me, too," Gavin said. He tossed his menu onto the pile and then leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the top of Elle's.

Arthur said nothing and continued examining his menu carefully. Ambrose raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

"So," Elle asked. "How does it feel to be 26?"

"About like it did to be 25, honestly."

"So what's been the best thing about the past year?" Gavin asked. He asked the same thing at every birthday party.

Arthur snorted. "Like you can't guess."

"You think you know my answer?" Ambrose asked.

"You think I don't?"

Ambrose raised his eyebrows. "Well, go on then. What's the best thing that's happened to me this past year?"

"One word," Arthur said, holding up a finger. "David."

Ambrose smiled without meaning to. "Well, yeah, true."

Arthur pushed his menu onto the pile. "Go on, tell them your big news. God knows I've only had to hear it a thousand times already."

"David's coming for the holidays," he said.

"That's wonderful," Elle said.

"Will we get to meet him?" Gavin asked.

"He'll join our basketball game," Arthur answered before Ambrose could. "Unlike Ambrose here, David can actually play."

"Should be interesting then."

"We'll see."

The waitress brought their waters over to the table. Elle tried to take one of the waters to pass down to Gavin, but reached for one at the same time the waitress was holding out a full glass to Ambrose. Their arms collided and half a glass of water splattered onto the table and pile of menus.

"Sorry," Elle said. She shook out her silverware and started blotting the puddle.

"At least it's just water," Ambrose said. He accepted some napkins and helped pick up the ice and mop up the spill.

"Did you guy decide what wanted to order?" The waitress tapped the stack of plastic menus against the table. Water droplets slid down them to the table.

"Yeah, steak tips all around," Ambrose said. Arthur didn't object.

"And your sides?"

They answered nearly at once, ending up with two orders of fries, a baked potato, and an order of garlic broccoli. The waitress gave them another stack of napkins and left the table.

"Well, while we wait," Elle said, "do you want to open your presents?" She reached down into her purse and pulled out a small, flat box wrapped in the Sunday comics.

"Sure," Ambrose said. "Just a second." He reached down and pulled out the long, thin package from Gwen. "I've got this, too."

"You brought a present for yourself?" Arthur asked.

"No, idiot. A friend of mine was supposed to come tonight, but had to cancel at the last minute. Her hospital tends to forget she has a life outside her internship."

"Sounds familiar," Gavin said. "I'd hate to be a resident. Never get a chance to relax."

Elle nodded. "I have a med friend, too," she said. "I used to always just save her multiple tickets, but now the box office just sets one aside always. If Gwen doesn't show at least fifteen minutes before the show starts, whoever is working the box passes the ticket onto a friend or uses it to flirt, or whatever."

Ambrose twisted his head, confused. "Did you say _Gwen_?"

"Well, yeah, that's her name."

"Not Gwen Smith, is it?" Gavin asked.

Elle turned in her chair. "You know Gwen?"

"Short girl, dark curls? Yeah. She volunteers at the shelter."

"You both know Gwen?"

"Who the hell is Gwen?" Arthur asked. Everyone turned to look at him.

"She's a doctor," Gavin said. "Well, she's finishing her residency, at least."

"We were roommates," Elle said.

"She introduced me to David," Ambrose said.

"Really?" Elle asked. "That's sweet."

"When were you roommates?"

"Last part of college. Her roommate upped and left at the semester. She needed someone to stay, and I needed to get off campus."

"Gwen _who_?" Arthur asked, sounding annoyed.

"Gwen Smith," Ambrose, Elle, and Gavin replied, more or less in unison.

"I can't believe you know Gwen."

"She never said anything," Elle said. "I talk about you all the time."

"Really?" Gavin asked, grinning.

Elle bumped her shoulder against his side. "Shut up," she said, her cheeks pink.

"We should take a picture and send it to her," Ambrose said, pulling out his phone. "Arthur, you mind?"

"Sure. Why not?" He waited for the other three to bunch together. Elle held up rabbit ears over both Ambrose's and Gavin's heads. "Say cheese."

"Cheese!" Arthur snapped the photo and handed the phone back to Ambrose. Ambrose quickly sent the photo along to Gwen in a text, then slid the phone back into his bag. He knew it was unlikely she'd be able to reply until late.

"Great," Arthur said. "Can we get to the presents now?" He pulled a small box from his jacket pocket. "Mine first."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "Yes, your highness." Ambrose opened the package carefully, wondering who Arthur had gotten to wrap it. Within the cream and scarlet paper was a simple box with a circle around a rounded star on the lid. Ambrose frowned. The logo looked familiar, but there was no way—he opened the box. Sitting within the box was an ink pen.

"Well?" Arthur asked.

"A _Montblanc?_" Ambrose said, his voice sliding dangerously toward a squeak. "You bought me a Montblanc?"

"You wouldn't shut up about your stupid ink pens."

"I'd have been happy with some uni-ball pens, or, if you wanted to get fancy, a space pen."

"This is re-fillable," Arthur said. "I checked."

Across the table, Gavin was quietly laughing against the back of his hand.

"Look, I even got your name on it. See?"

Ambrose picked up the pen. He had to admit, the cool weight felt good in his hands. "A. Carmarthen," he read. "You know I'm not going to spend even half as much money on you later this month."

"It's just a pen, Ambrose. If you don't like it—" he reached to grab the pen away. Ambrose twisted his body, protecting it.

"I like it," he said. "It's just too much." He placed the pen back carefully into its box. "It's fantastic, but honestly, Arthur, a Montblanc?"

Arthur shifted in his chair. "I decided to get you a decent pen to shut you up about the office pens, but I had no idea what to buy, so I asked my uncle."

"That explains it then," Ambrose said. "Thank you. It's amazing." He closed the box and slipped it deep into his bag where it'd be safe. "All right. Next up, Elle?"

Elle pushed her package across the table. "It's from both of us," she said.

Ambrose opened the package. Inside was a dark green book with a grenade shaped like an apple on it. "_Guerrilla Warfare for Teachers_?" he asked, looking up.

"Kids are brutal these days," Gavin said, nodding wisely.

Ambrose grinned and thumbed through the book. As he did so, a card fell out of the pages.

"A special coupon," Elle explained. "Three free shows from our 2012 season."

"Thanks," Ambrose said. "This is fantastic. I've been needing something to read on the train."

"That's it? A simple thank you? You couldn't have done the same with my present?"

"They didn't buy me something utterly unreasonable," Ambrose countered. "Thanks again," he said, looking between Elle and Gavin.

"Hope you like it," Gavin said.

"I'm sure I will. Especially the shows. I'll have to get your schedule."

"I'll email it to you," Elle said. "We don't have all our dates yet, but you can at least see what we'll be performing."

Ambrose tucked the ticket into his wallet and the book into his bag. "Now, all that's left is Gwen's." He picked up the long package.

"Oh, yes," Arthur said, "the mysterious Gwen."

Elle grabbed some of the paper on the table and, rolling it into a ball, bounced it off Arthur's head. "Hush," she said.

"You're just jealous that you don't know her," Ambrose said, sliding one finger into the seam of the wrapping paper.

"Hardly," Arthur replied, reaching down to grab the paper ball. He threw it across the table at Gavin, but Elle snatched it from in front of Gavin's face and bounced it back off Arthur's forehead. Arthur glared at her and, this time, launched the ball in her direction. Elle ducked, and Gavin caught it where her head had been. He threw it back at Arthur, who clapped it out of the air. "What is this?" he asked. "Pick on Arthur day?"

"Had to be your turn eventually," Ambrose mumbled as he tore the box open. He laughed.

"What is it?" Elle asked, leaning over the table to look. One of her curls fell into her water glass.

"A wand," Ambrose said, holding it up. "We marathonned the _Harry Potter_ movies and," –he stopped, realizing that if he explained any further, Arthur would never let him live it down—"well, it's a long story. I can't believe she remembered." He held the wand. It fit well in his hand. It even felt a little warm, which was a rather unexpected, but cool effect.

"Well, Ambrose, show us some magic," Arthur said.

Ambrose waved the wand, saying the first spell that came to mind. "_Lumos!_"

In the middle of the table, the blown out candle suddenly burst into a large, bright flame.

Ambrose froze, barely noticing that the others were likewise staring.

"Okay," Elle said. "That was creepy."

"Did you guys arrange this?" Arthur asked. "Is it some weird chemistry trick or something?"

Ambrose shook his head. He pointed the wand at the candle flame and whispered, "_Nox._" The flame went out with a hiss. Ambrose dropped the wand and pushed back from the table. "What the hell," he said. "Seriously. What the hell?"

"I didn't just imagine that?" Gavin asked. "The candle lit up and then went out, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur said. "That's what I saw, too. Ambrose, try something else."

"No." Ambrose shook his head. He grabbed some of the extra napkins and used them to pick up the wand. "No, no, no, no, no." He knew he was being ridiculous. There was no way the wand had caused the candle to act as it had. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Some kind of explanation. He dropped the wand into the torn box and shoved the box into his bag. Then he grabbed more napkins, now thankful for the large stack the waitress had given them, and used them to pick up and wrap the candle so that he could figure out how it had been doctored. He pushed the candle down on top of the box.

"No more presents?" he asked. And then, before waiting for an answer, replied, "Good. Oh, look, our food is coming."

The waitress set up her tray by their table. "Are you all okay? You look a little shell-shocked."

Ambrose jerked his thumb toward Arthur. "He bought me a Montblanc pen," he said.

The woman whistled. "Impressive. And here I thought you said you two weren't together."

"It's just a pen," Arthur said, exasperated.

"You two are so cute," the woman replied, placing their plates down in front of them.

Ambrose started laughing helplessly. This was definitely the strangest birthday ever.


	10. The Cookie Delivery, Flashback 2010

A/n: This chapter starts off the first of three flashbacks, each explaining how one of the three at Ambrose's birthday party met Gwen. This chapter was written by MiroSlav. (And, btw, the last chapter was written by LilyAyl).

**Also, please let us know what you think the characters' favorite carols are.**

A flashback story, in which Gwen and Ambrose meet for the first time and there is an overabundance of cookies and brownies.

_Sunday, August 15, 2010_

"Crap," Gwen muttered as one of the stacked boxes in her arms threatened to topple from its precarious perch and onto the walkway. She rested her chin firmly on the box, trying to keep everything balanced, and slowed her approach to Adam's door to a crawl.

"Need some help?" someone asked, sounding amused.

Gwen squinted at the speaker from the corner of her eye but all she could make out was a blurred figure with brown or black hair. "I've got the boxes, I think, but if you could ring the doorbell, I'd really appreciate it," she said.

"I can do you one better," the speaker said. She could hear the grin in his voice. "I can let you in."

Gwen blinked in confusion for a second. Then she laughed. "Oh, you must be Ambrose! Adam mentioned you'd moved in. I'm Gwen."

"Hi, Gwen," Ambrose said cheerfully. She could hear the sound of him unlocking the door. "You're not moving in too, are you? Adam didn't mention another housemate."

Gwen laughed again, taking the steps carefully. "What, you mean these? No, the boxes are just far too many brownies and cookies for one person. I hope you have a sweet tooth." Elliott's mother had taken one look at her during her visit home and decided that she wasn't feeding herself properly. Gwen's fridge was now stuffed full of food that Mrs. Smyth had forced on her; the cookies and brownies were just the tip of the iceberg.

"Brownies?" Ambrose repeated. He tugged the top box out from under her chin, opening up the lid and letting the sweet aroma fill the air. It turned out that Adam's housemate had very blue eyes, which gleamed with amusement at her as he asked, "Do the brownies have nuts?"

"Yes." Gwen frowned. "Are you allergic?"

Ambrose laughed, shaking his head. "Adam said you were a doctor at heart. I see what he meant. And no, not allergic, I was just curious." He led the way to the kitchen, adding over his shoulder, "Adam got an emergency call from his clinic, but he said he'd be back in about a half-hour." He grinned at her. "So what do you say? Want to have some cookies while we wait?"

Ambrose's smile proved infectious; Gwen found herself grinning back automatically. Adam had mentioned Ambrose before, of course, that his mother was an old friend of Adam's who needed an inexpensive place to stay while he worked his way through grad school, and that he would be living in Adam's guestroom for the next few years. He'd been vague when Gwen had pressed for more information though.

Gwen set her boxes of treats on the countertop and said, "I'll grab the plates and glasses if you grab the milk. Mrs. Smyth's cookies are great on their own, but they're _amazing_ with milk."

"You call your mom Mrs. Smith?" Ambrose said, squinting dubiously at her.

Gwen shook her head. "Smyth with a Y, not an I. My best friend's mother," she explained. "My mom died when I was in middle school." Her throat tightened a little as it always did when she mentioned her mother, and she busied herself with grabbing a pair of glasses and plates.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ambrose said. When she turned back, he was making a face. "Foot meet mouth- hello, I'm Ambrose, and I say clueless things."

"You didn't know," Gwen said with a shrug and smile meant to reassure. Ambrose was still looking a little stricken, so she changed the topic to something safer. "So Adam said you're getting your Master's to teach?"

Ambrose's face lit up with a mixture of relief and eagerness, and he began to tell her all about the program, pausing just long enough to pour them both a glass of milk and put the carton back in the fridge.

Gwen let his enthusiasm wash over her as she nibbled at one of Mrs. Smyth's macadamia nut cookies. "Go on," she urged when he paused to take a breath. It was fun to watch someone else be enthusiastic about something for once. She leaned back in her chair as Ambrose grinned and gestured excitedly, his elbow missing his milk glass by an inch.

Adam had been scarce with the details about Ambrose, but Gwen had a feeling they were going to get along well.


	11. The ER Visit, Flashback 2009

A/n: This is the second of three flashback stories posted at the same time today. You don't have to read them in order, but do make sure you don't miss one. This section was written by MiroSlav.

A flashback, in which Gwen meets Gavin by way of an E.R. visit.

Work Text:

_Saturday, July 11, 2009_

"Gwen!" Hector called, a relieved grin spreading across his face as he spotted her. The nurse waved her over. "I was hoping you'd be in a few minutes early," he said. "Cal called out, so naturally there was a triple-car pile up and it's been even more hectic than usual."

"That's saying something," Gwen said dryly. So far her rotation at the E.R. had been consistently busy and chaotic, barely giving her time to breathe. "Where do you need me?"

"We've got the triple-car mess mostly sorted out, so if you could help Eric to organize the lot that just straggled in with the_lovely_ police escort, that'd be great." Hector flashed another grin at her before departing.

Gwen headed over to where Eric was standing in front of two men and their police escorts, tucking a flashlight back into his pocket. One of the men was sporting handcuffs and a bloody nose; the other had what looked like an impressive black eye.

Mr. Black Eye caught sight of her and grinned. A second later the grin turned to a wince, but he still managed to sound cheerful as he clapped a hand to his chest and said, "Well, the sight of you makes this night worth it."

Caught off-guard, Gwen laughed. "Really?" she said with a shake of her head. She glanced at the nearest police officer, a middle-aged woman who looked to be fighting a grin of her own. Her name tag said Officer Lyons. "What happened to them?"

"He-" Officer Lyons jerked a thumb at the handcuffed man. "-showed up at a bar where his ex was celebrating her birthday with a couple of friends. When he started making a nuisance of himself, this upstanding gentleman decided to step in." This time, the thumb jerked towards Mr. Black Eye, who looked unrepentant.

"So they fought?" Gwen's surprise that the officers were letting the two men stand so close to each other must have shown on her face, because the other officer, a tall, slender Hispanic man, snorted.

"They were about to, but that one's ex decided that she didn't appreciate either of them interrupting her birthday party."

"She had a great right hook on her," Mr. Black Eye agreed cheerfully while the handcuffed man scowled.

Eric cleared his throat and gestured for Gwen to step away from the group for a moment. "I think they can wait a bit," he whispered. "I've already checked for initial signs of a concussion on the one, and the other's got a broken nose at worst. We don't want to keep the police waiting for a too long, so bring over the proper forms and run through the questions with them. Tell them it might be an hour or two. Then I want you to join me and we'll start looking over some of the other patients."

"Got it," Gwen said.

When she brought the forms over, Mr. Black Eye tried to wink at her with his good eye. "I'll fill these out if you give me your phone number," he said. He nodded at her name tag. "There's probably a few dozen Gwendolyn Smiths in the city."

"There probably are," Gwen agreed cheerfully. "You should use the phone book and look one of the others up. Once you're done filling these forms out, of course." She held the clipboard out to him.

Mr. Black Eye let out a loud laugh, one filled with amusement. "All right, I'll stop," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You really did make the night better, though," he added, and sounded sincere enough that Gwen smiled and shook her head.

"I'm glad to hear it-"

"Gavin," he supplied.

"Gavin," she said. "But please, do us both a favor and stop the knight in shining armor routine. It apparently doesn't end well for you."

"No promises, but for you I'll try," he said, grinning. There was still a flirtatious tinge to his voice, but this one seemed automatic, as though flirting was second-nature to him. He looked down at the forms on the clipboard and made a face. "On second thought, I promise. These questions are already giving me a headache and I've only looked at the name portion."

Gwen bit back a laugh and resisted the urge to pat his arm consolingly. "I'll leave you both to it," she said, and then nodded politely to both officers. "We'll try to work them in as soon as possible, though it'll probably be at least an hour or two."

"Thanks," Officer Lyons said.

"So," Gwen heard Gavin say as she turned away, in a suggestive tone that doubtless included eyebrow waggling and a winning smile, "officer, what would you say to- "

"Mr. Greene, I'm old enough to be your mother," Lyons said. "No."

There was a pause. "So, Officer Lawrence-"

"_No_," the other officer said as Gwen covered her mouth and tried unsuccessfully to muffle her laughter.

&-*EL*-&

"Is this it?" Adam asked, parking in front of the shelter. He gazed at the building doubtfully.

Gwen checked her slip of paper. "That's the shelter Eric suggested," she said with a nod. "If you could pick me up at around 10, that'd be great."

"I'm sure my friend and I can think of things to talk about until then," Adam said dryly.

"Thanks again for driving me," Gwen said, pausing in opening the passenger door and juggling her two handbags. "I was a little nervous about traveling a new bus route when I have these supplies."

Adam laughed, shaking his head. "You're welcome, Gwen. Now go, volunteer, be a productive citizen."

Gwen entered the shelter, where it was relatively quiet.

"You here to volunteer? Gwen, right?" asked a man with a nametag that said _Hello, I'm Aden_. He smiled when she nodded. "Eric mentioned you might be by. We're actually not too busy right now. Wednesdays usually aren't."

Gwen frowned. "I could come back on Monday?" she offered. "That's my next day off."

"Oh, we never turn down help on Mondays," Aden said with a laugh.

"There's another shelter two blocks over that's being slammed right now," another volunteer said. She smiled, showing off her multi-colored braces. "My friend who volunteers there just texted me with a 'Help!' and about twelve exclamation points."

"Two blocks over?" Gwen said.

The girl nodded. "Just exit, turn left, walk 'til the next stoplight, turn right, and it's the shelter with the string of Christmas lights above the front door," she said.

"Thanks," Gwen said. She smiled at them both. "I'll see you on Monday then."

It was a nice warm evening, and Gwen found herself humming while she walked. Pausing by the bus stop at the corner (she made a mental note to use it next time rather than bother Adam), she pulled out her cell to call Adam and let him know the change in location. She grimaced as her cell turned on just long enough to beep low battery and turn back off. Gwen shook her head. She'd just have to remember to walk back to the original shelter before 10.

Sure enough there were flashing Christmas lights above the door, blinking hues of blue and green and yellow. And it was indeed packed when she entered.

Gwen looked around, frowning, but no one immediately leaped out of the crowd as being in charge. After a moment the crowd parted and a man approached her, grinning. "Sara said she was sending over reinforcements!" he said, shouting to be heard over the noise. "You must be G-" He stopped, recognition flooding his face even as Gwen squinted at him and tried to remember why he looked so familiar.

He grinned and pointed a finger at her. "Doctor Gwen Smith!" he said. He offered her a half-bow and finally everything clicked.

"Gavin, wasn't it?" she said, laughing. "Small world."

Gavin clapped a hand to his chest. "I prefer to think of it as fate," he said solemnly even as his eyes twinkled and he extended his hand for one of her handbags. She handed it over gratefully. "So, you're here to volunteer, Doctor Smith?"

"It's not doctor, not yet," Gwen corrected. "Just call me Gwen."

"Well, Gwen, if you're here to help out, I believe this is the start of a beautiful friendship," Gavin informed her. He extended the crook of his arm to her. Grinning, she slipped her arm in his as he said, "Let me show you around."


	12. The Sprain, Flashback 2005

A/N: This is the third of three flashback chapters posted today. You don't have to read them in order, but do make sure you don't miss chapters 10 and 11. Also, for few who have reviewed so far, thank you very, very much. We don't need reviews to post, but they still make us smile. So, thanks.

This chapter was written by LilyAyl.

**Please tell us what you think the characters' favorite carols are.**

A flashback, in which Gwen must find a new roommate ASAP.

Work Text:

_Thursday, January 27 2005_

Gwen stapled the flyer to the message post with more force than necessary. She should be studying, outlining her textbooks, or listening to her professor's podcast—anything except trudging around campus putting up these horrid flyers begging for a roommate. Not for the first time, she wondered what the hell had happened with Anna. Before the break, Anna had been talking of making Gwen watch the old seasons of _West Wing_ with her and of possibly doing some volunteer work at the new youth center that had opened a few blocks from their apartment. Then, on Christmas Eve, she'd called with bad news and worse apologies. Gwen had been watching the impossible news about snow falling strong in Texas and enjoying one of the cookies Elliot had brought over earlier that day; she had not been in the right frame of mind to learn that Anna was leaving, even if she'd promised to still pay her half of the January rent.

January was nearly over now, but despite spreading the news that she needed a roommate ASAP via Craigslist, the school's off-campus housing board, and word-of-mouth, she was still living alone. Gwen pounded another flyer to the post, wincing she hit the heel of her hand wrong and pain echoed up her arm. She shook out her wrist, then sighed and leaned forward against the flyer she'd just posted. She took a deep breath and released it, calming herself as she did before a test. She stood back up, ignoring any of the glances directed her way, and walked into the nearest building. The posts were covered with flyers no one ever read. She needed to post somewhere with better exposure.

Eleven stories with airport terminal-long hallways, Lindel Hall was one of the largest and most depressing buildings on campus. Like most freshmen, Gwen had had several classes on the first couple floors her first year, but none since. She felt sorry for anyone who belonged to one of the programs on the long directory by the elevators. It seemed nearly all of the school's liberal arts degrees were huddled together on the upper floors.

Gwen looked around the area by the elevators, hoping to find a bulletin board where she could post her flyer, but the only ones there had signs stating that all posters had to be approved. She left a few on the tables in the small break room by the entrance doors, then, resorting to eeny meeny miney mo, she walked down one of the two halls that extended off the central area like a lightning bolt, in the hope of finding a free board either along the hall or by the stairs.

She posted one flyer outside the computer lab, idly explaining to those waiting in line for the computers she was reduced to doing so. As she left, she noticed someone tearing off her contact information, which was something at least.

At the end of the hallway, by the stairs and another set of doors leading outside, Gwen found another board without a sign. She reached up to staple the flyer up, but the stapler just slid against the wall. _Great,_ she thought, _I'm out of staples._ Gwen shifted her backpack so it fell down by her side and slipped her flyers inside. Then she rummaged through the front pocket seeking the small box of staples she'd bought alongside the stapler that morning.

She was pressed back against the wall, trying to both load her stapler and avoid getting in the way of the sudden sea of students crashing down the stairs when a student literally crashed down the stairs, landing at Gwen's feet with a loud curse.

The students flowed around the girl, but no one stopped to help her. Gwen shoved her still-open stapler into her bag and pushed through to the girl. "Are you all right? Do you think you can stand?"

"Let's see." The girl pushed one hand on the stairs behind her and tried to push up. "Dammit."

"Here," Gwen said, crouching down and offering her shoulder as leverage. "Let me help you out of the way, then I'll take a look at your ankle."

"Thanks." She started to push down on Gwen's shoulder, but then stopped. "Wait! My phone. Do you see it?"

Gwen looked around the stairs, spotting a cherry red phone a few feet away and a battery pack just beyond it. "Yeah. Just a second." Gwen shifted and reached for the phone and battery. The students had thinned out, leaving only her, the girl, and a few stragglers in the area. "Here." She snapped the battery back on as she handed the phone over and moved back to where

"Thanks," the girl said. "I'm Elle, by the way." She pushed up till she was standing.

"Gwen," Gwen replied. She helped Elle hobble out the door to one of the benches just outside the building. "It's a bit cold, sorry, but this is closer than anything else."

"It's fine."

Gwen crouched at Elle's feet. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to Elle's cuff.

"Sure. So," Elle asked as Gwen rolled up her jean leg. "Sports or premed?"

"Excuse me?"

Elle bounced her leg slightly. "Experience says that if you offer to help with an injured limb, you've either had a few yourself or you're a med-school hopeful."

"Experience?" Gwen asked, pulling off Elle's shoe.

"Vast experience," Elle confirmed dryly. "This time, though, was entirely my roommate's fault."

"Roommates are evil," Gwen said, thinking of Anna. "What did yours do?"

"She stole a costume I was creating for class and wore it to a frat party. Now it's stained, torn, and smells like beer." She drew in a sharp breath as Gwen prodded bruises forming on her ankle. "I found it this morning, draped over the back of my chair."

"It doesn't look too bad. You'll need a bandage, but if you keep off it, you should be fine in a week or so."

Elle laughed. "Right. You have seen the size of this campus, haven't you? I should be rushing over to Zinser right now."

"I can help you to the student health center," Gwen offered. The center was only down the street, and they were certain to have bandages and possibly crutches. "I'm not going across campus though." She helped Elle put her shoe back on and rolled down her cuff.

"You're awfully nice for being a complete stranger," Elle said, pulling herself up onto her good foot.

"_I solemnly pledge myself to consecrate my life to the service of humanity_."

"Sounds like a line," Elle said, then, grimacing, added, "From a play, I mean. Not a _line_ line."

Gwen smiled. "Physician's Oath," she said. "To answer your earlier question, I'm pre-med."

"So what were you doing in Lindel?" Elle asked. She held onto Gwen's arm, quickly falling into a swifter limping pace than Gwen had expected. Perhaps Elle had not been exaggerating her "vast experience."

"Trying to find a roommate," Gwen said. "Mine decided to leave at Christmas break with no warning. Family issues, which I understand, of course, but I can't afford the apartment on my own."

"Where's your building?" Elle asked.

"Fifth and Main?"

"So you're near the theater," Elle said, thoughtfully. "I hate my roommate. Fae steals my clothes and homework and leaves messes even more than I can stand. How much is the rent?"

"475 a month," Gwen said. "Are you asking to move in?"

"I could definitely swing that," Elle said. "Yeah, I think I am."

Gwen thought about all of the flyers still waiting in her bag to be hung up around campus and the continued silence on her online posts. "No pets," she said. "I'd need quiet in the evenings to study."

"I spend most of my free time at the theater," Elle said. "I would appreciate someone to help me run lines on occasion."

"I'll trade you for helping me with flashcards. And," Gwen added, "I'd need your half of the February rent upfront."

"Deal," Elle said. She stood aside so that Gwen could open the door to the health center. "If we stop by my bank, I can pay you today. Do you have a TV?"

"Yes," Gwen asked, slightly confused. She helped Elle inside. "Why?"

"I am completely addicted to _House_," Elle said, settling back into one of the waiting room chairs.

Gwen laughed. "Me too," she admitted. "I think we're going to get along fine."


	13. The Toy Soldiers, Friday

A/n: Flashbacks are now over, and we're back on track with Friday the 9th. This section was written by MiroSlav. A few lines quoted in this fic are from the season one episode "Lancelot."

**Please let us know of any carols you think the characters like/enjoy. We'll be incorporating them in later on.**

In which David and Shea have their own mini-Christmas, and Gwen once again gives more than she intends.

Work Text:

_Friday, December 9, 2011_

Shea was bouncing in his car-seat, talking excitedly about what his classmates were doing for Christmas mixed with random, wildly improbable descriptions of the cars and people they were passing. David half-listened, his attention mostly on the road and trying not to think about this being the last weekend he'd have Shea until after the holidays.

"Dad!" Shea frowned at him. Judging by the narrowed eyes and darkening expression, he'd been trying to get David's attention for a minute or two.

"Sorry," David said automatically. "I was thinking about what we could do this weekend." He stopped at a red light, stealing the opportunity to reach out and ruffle Shea's hair. "Got any ideas?"

"I want the Muppets!" Shea decided, and David laughed.

"The Muppets, huh? Well, let me look into that," he said. There had to be a website that would tell him if the movie was age-appropriate. He noticed Shea's half-hopeful, half-puzzled look. "That's a maybe."

"Good," Shea said, grinning and apparently taking that maybe as a yes. He drummed his feet against his car seat, a quick, determined beat. After a moment, though, his feet stilled. "Dad, will Santa find me in France?" he asked suddenly, in a tone that suggested he'd been brooding over this for a while.

David blinked, and then smiled. "Of course he will," he assured him. "I'm sure Santa has a whole group of elves who adjust Santa's Christmas list for kids going away for the holidays."

Shea let out a loud sigh of relief. "Bobby said they don't have Santa in France. And I asked Abby, 'cause Abby knows_everything_, and _she _said they don't, they've got Pere Noel."

"Well, Bobby and Abby are both a little confused," David said gently. "Pere Noel is the French name for Santa, and he definitely goes to France. If it'll make you feel better, I'll leave a note with my milk and cookies, tell him your address just in case."

Shea laughed loudly at that. "Dad, you can't write a letter to Santa," he said, sounding scandalized. "You're a grown-up!"

"What, grown-ups can't write letters to Santa now? What if I really want a certain present for Christmas?" David countered, biting back a smile as he pulled into the driveway. Turning off the car, he reached over and unbuckled Shea.

"I guess you can," Shea said slowly, still looking a little doubtful. As soon as David came around the car and opened the door, Shea darted from the car and up the driveway. "A present! You got a present!"

It took David a second to realize Shea was pointing excitedly at a Fed-Ex box on the front steps. "Looks like I did," he agreed, grabbing Shea's bags. "Let me get the door open and we can take it inside and see what it is."

"Dad, if you got a present, you can't open it until Christmas!" Shea protested, back to being scandalized again. "It's the_rules_!"

David made ridiculous faces at him until Shea's dismay shifted to laughter. "I don't remember that rule," he said, fishing his key out of his pocket and unlocking the front door. As soon as there was a sliver of space, Shea squeezed inside, still laughing.

David set Shea's bags inside and then picked up the package. It was medium-sized, without much weight to it. He grinned when he saw that it was addressed to Shea, and then grinned wider at the familiar name and address in the corner.

"_I _didn't get a present," he announced, closing the door behind him. Shea stared at him and he held up the present. "It's addressed to you. Apparently Gwen thought you deserved an early Christmas present!"

To his surprise, Shea's face crumpled a little.

"Hey," David said gently, kneeling so that they were face-to-face. He rested one hand on Shea's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want a present," Shea said, voice wobbling. "I want you to come to France with us."

"I'd like that too, but it's just not possible," David said, his throat tightening. Not for the first time he cursed Lainie's parents for being so stubborn. It hurt badly enough knowing that he wasn't going to be able to see Shea on Christmas, but to see Shea upset over it as well- He tried to keep his voice light. "But we can have a great weekend, can't we? I'm sure Santa won't mind if we have our own early Christmas."

Shea sniffled. "Okay," he said. "But I don't have your present."

"I know!" David said, imbuing cheerfulness into his voice. "Let's have two mini-Christmases. Tomorrow will be _your_ mini-Christmas, and then when you get back from France, we can have _my_ mini-Christmas and you can give me your gift."

"Three Christmases?" Shea said, frowning. It wasn't the earlier scandalized frown, though, but a thoughtful one. "No one else gets three Christmases."

"No one else is as special as you are," David said. It probably wasn't the right thing to say, giving Shea a swelled head like that, but the words slipped out before he could think about it.

Shea grinned, apparently accepting that explanation. "Let's open the present!"

"Ah, ah," David said, waggling a finger. "_Tomorrow's_ your mini-Christmas, remember?" Seeing Shea's pout, he laughed and relented. "Okay, Gwen's present tonight, my present tomorrow."

"And The Muppets," Shea added, looking slyly at him to gauge his reaction.

David laughed. "_Maybe_ the Muppets," he said. He got out some scissors and cut the packing tape off the box. Then he sat cross-legged on the floor and watched Shea open the box.

Inside was another slightly smaller package, this one wrapped in bright wrapping paper that lasted about five seconds against Shea's determined tearing. Shea let out a shout of delight. "Look!" he said, holding up Gwen's gift and not seeming to notice when a note fluttered to the carpet.

Gwen had sent a Dragon Land Playmobil set, one with a bright red dragon and at least one or two knights, judging by the cover illustration. David grinned. Shea had been going through phases lately- four months back, it had been aliens. This month one of his friends' mothers had let them watch _The Sword in the Stone_ and now it was all King Arthur and knights and dragons.

"Wow! Wasn't that nice of her?" David said. He reached for the note, stopped by Shea's demand of, "Open it!"

Shea noticed his expression and said, a little quieter, "Open it, _please_?"

"That's better," David said, and opened the set. It took a moment, but soon he had one of the two knights in his hand. Shea had immediately grabbed the dragon and was currently running around the living room, growling and pretending that the dragon was breathing fire.

David turned the knight over so that it was on its back, its sword pointing upwards. It wore a cloak, which was ridiculous, he thought absently-you wouldn't wear a cloak that long and inclined to entangle in the bushes when fighting something as dangerous as a dragon, or even just something that could fly, it was common sense, really-

"Roar!" Shea shouted, and shoved the dragon at David's face.

David cried out in surprise, one arm coming up instinctively to shield his eyes—

"_Brechdan An Weal!" _another voice answered him, strident and purposeful. David lowered his arm quickly, blinking and looking around for the speaker. But there was no one there except for Shea, looking abashed.

"Sorry," Shea said softly. He awkwardly patted David's face. "The dragon didn't get you, did he?"

"No, he didn't," David said even he shook his head, trying to clear it of the buzzing in his ears. "But let's be a little more careful with the dragon near people's faces, okay?"

"Okay," Shea said, and shoved the dragon at the knight David was still gripping tightly in his hand. "Roar! I'm here to eat you!"

David shifted the knight so that it was facing the dragon, and grabbed the other knight. "Never!" he said, adopting a gruff tone. "Together, we'll defeat you! No more eating knights and kidnapping princesses for you! Princesses have their own lives to lead, you know…."

The next morning, David bolted upright, breathing hard, uncertain of what had woken him so abruptly. There was no sound of Shea, and outside, there was only the distant sound of traffic.

He'd been dreaming of Ambrose, he remembered, but no, it hadn't been Ambrose. The young man had worn his features, like some sort of doppelganger, but Ambrose had never looked at him with such guilt and self-reproach. David closed his eyes, trying to remember.

"_You're not to blame," he'd said, wanting to get that awful look off the other boy's face._

"_Yes, I am," he was answered wretchedly. "I pushed you. I made you lie."_

"_The choice was mine," he'd said, his certainty bone-deep and so strong that he ached with his conviction. Then again, he thought wryly, perhaps that was also the dungeon's damp. "My punishment is mine to bear and mine to bear alone."_

"_I wish there was something I could do."_

"There is; you can stop blaming yourself." David said, the sound of his own voice making him jump. His head ached, and his throat was sore, as though he'd been yelling in his sleep. Shea would be pounding on the door if he had been, though, so perhaps his throat ached from keeping his dreams locked up tight in his chest.

He shivered, the memory of the dungeon's dampness clinging to him. He snorted. Memory. Dream, he meant- he'd never been near any dungeons in his life. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to will the fogginess in his head away. It had been a weird dream; he'd have to tell Ambrose about it.

"Dad!" Shea called. "I'm hungry!"

David laughed despite himself at the plaintive note in Shea's voice. He glanced at the clock and gaped at the bright red lights announcing it was half-past ten. No wonder Shea was hungry! "Okay, I'm coming," he called, kicking back the covers and tugging a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. "What are you in the mood for? Mini-Christmas means your choice."

"Chocolate pancakes!" Shea said.

"Pancakes it is," David said.

Shea was already seated at the table, swinging his legs and playing with the dragon and one of the knights.

"No toys at the table," David said. This time he didn't relent at Shea's pout. "No arguments. Remember the syrup incident?"

Shea looked a little guilty, and squirmed off the chair, going to put the knight and the dragon away. "Can we get a wizard?" he asked over his shoulder. "Arthur needs his Merlin."

David stopped, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes and trying to gain his bearings, but the vertigo only increased.

"I've seen you in action. You could shame the great Arthur himself," Ambrose said in his ear, and David found himself laughing, a quick, sudden burst of uncontrollable laughter.

"Dad?" Shea said uncertainly. "Dad, are you okay?"

David opened his eyes. He was clutching the pancake mix tightly enough that his knuckles were white, he realized. He forced a smile upon his face and turned towards Shea. "It's okay," he said. "I'm just hungrier than I realized, and half-asleep. But you're right- Arthur does need his Merlin. Let's go and buy you a wizard later."

Shea beamed.

Once Shea was safely distracted by his pancakes, David took out his cell and called Ambrose.

Ambrose picked up on the third ring. "David?" he said, sounding surprised but pleased. "I thought this weekend was your time with Shea."

"It is," David said, something easing in his chest at the sound of Ambrose's voice. "Listen, I've been having a weird morning."

There was a pause. "A weird morning," Ambrose echoed. "Define weird."

David shrugged a little helplessly. "Weird dreams?" he said. "Weird moments like in the kitchen where I could've sworn I heard your voice-"

"Okay," Ambrose said. David could hear him take a deep breath. "Okay," he said again, and laughed, a strained note creeping into his voice as he continued. "When did the weirdness start happening, exactly?"

"Well, Gwen sent Shea an early Christmas present- a Playmobil set with a dragon and two knights," David began and stopped, because it was all starting to sound even crazier when he said it aloud.

"Gwen sent Shea a Playmobil-" Ambrose started to repeat.

"Wait, Gwen knows Shea too?" a muffled voice demanded, making David jump a little.

"Shut up, Arthur!" Ambrose snapped. "And don't listen to other people's private conversations. Besides, of course Gwen knows Shea- I told you she's the one who introduced me to David."

Arthur mumbled something indistinct.

Ambrose apparently decided to ignore Arthur for the moment. "David," he said, and actually sounded a little frustrated. "Well, the thing is- oh, I have no idea. But you're not crazy. Or if you are, I am too," Ambrose said. He huffed out a frustrated groan. "Maybe it's a disease with a long incubation period? No, don't worry, I'll figure it out. It's just a little hard to explain over the phone. Especially when I'm not sure what's going on myself. But at least we've got a commonality between us now. That's something."

"Is this about the nonsense with the wand?" Arthur asked. "Give it up, Ambrose. No one's buying it."

"Go away," Ambrose hissed, and David could picture him flapping a hand in Arthur's face until Arthur rolled his eyes and backed away. Ambrose cleared his throat. "Can you answer a few questions?" he said. "And then you can just- just enjoy the weekend with Shea, and I'll explain what's going on when you come to visit."

"Okay," David said slowly. He was possibly even more confused than he had been before he'd called, but Ambrose was sounding particularly earnest, and he knew that Ambrose meant what he said. And it was nice to be so readily believed, if a bit surprising. "What was that about a wan-" he started to ask.

"Dad!" Shea called, and held up his empty plate. "More, please!"

"Sure thing!" David called, covering his cell with his hand briefly. "Look, Ambrose, I don't know what's going on, but…ask your questions."

"Right," Ambrose said, adopting a clinical tone. "Was the gift Gwen sent self-wrapped or company-wrapped?"

"Self-wrapped."

Ambrose hummed in thought. "Anything odd about the set?"

"Nothing odd, as far as I could tell," David said. "It looked like a regular factory-made Playmobil set."

"And you said it had a dragon? Okay," Ambrose said. He sounded a little excited now. "That's helpful, thanks. See you Thursday!" He hung up without further ado, and David blinked.

After a moment, he shook his head. It was going to be an odd few days. Well, at least Ambrose hadn't told him to go see a doctor. He turned back to Shea. "So, you really think you want some more pancakes? You've already had three."

"I can eat ten!" Shea boasted. David must have looked a little disbelieving, because Shea tilted his head and said, "Okay, maybe six."

David paused briefly on his way back into the kitchen, letting his hand rest on top of Shea's head. He could feel the soft texture of Shea's hair, kept short because Lainie's mother insisted on keeping it that way, and the heat of Shea's small body warming his hand.

For the first time that morning, his head felt clear, and his body grounded. "You know, maybe we should add a few more chocolate chips this time," he said, and smiled as Shea clapped his hands.


	14. The Christmas Party, Saturday

A/n: This section was written by LilyAyl. We're nearly caught up with live posting.

Again: What do you think the characters' favorite carols are?

In which Arthur forces Ambrose to wear a tie and forms a truce with his cousin, Anna.

Gen with mention of various f/m and f/f off-screen relationships.

_Saturday, December 10 2011_

You'd never guess how poor off the economy was looking around the house, Arthur thought, glimpsing an elaborate ball of mistletoe hanging in the center of the former dining hall, now ballroom. Garlands and sprays of pine branches made the room look like a winter glade. His father had paid for a hardwood floor to be laid down for the night and a quartet was setting up music stands in one corner. It was unnecessarily extravagant, even if they could afford it.

"Excuse me," Arthur said, slipping into the room to avoid yet another conversation with his father about how to mix with the guests. The musicians ignored him, which was just as well. He crossed the room to the door by the kitchens. The chef just shook her head at him, but then gestured toward the table outside her office. Arthur grinned at the small plate of mixed treats and the glass of wine beside it.

"Thanks," he said.

"Just get out of our way," the chef responded, pointing with her spoon toward the door. Arthur scooped up his gifts and checked out the door leading into the hall. It looked clear. He left, hurried down the hall and turned the corner to the game room. Few looked up when he entered. The game room was, by common and unspoken agreement, a room free from the obligation of socializing. One door opened to the hall just outside the smaller of the two main rooms. The other opened to the hall along the ballroom, leading down to the kitchens.

Arthur looked around the room, spotting Ambrose fidgeting by the fireplace. He grinned; Ambrose looked as miserable as Arthur felt. "Stop messing with your tie."

Ambrose looked up at him with a murderous expression. "I hate ties."

"This is a fancy party, Ambrose. You have to wear a tie."

Ambrose stole one of the small cakes off the treat plate. "I hate fancy parties."

"I bet the other admins would love to be here," Arthur said, placing the plate on an endtable.

Ambrose snorted. "Hardly. They're having a bar and bowling night."

"I hope they're doing the bowling first."

"I doubt it. Apparently bowling is double the fun when you're drunk."

"Apparently?" Arthur tried to imagine some of the admins he'd seen around the office stumbling around with bowling balls.

"I was one of the DDs last year," Ambrose explained.

"It's a wonder they're not all in the emergency room."

Ambrose missed the dig at his driving abilities, however. "Well…" he said, "Do you remember Leo's broken foot last year?"

Arthur thought back and recalled signing a cast after the holidays. "That's why he skipped the party? I thought he was sick."

"Nope. Wrangled an invite with the admins, and got a bowling ball for his trouble." Ambrose reached for the wine glass. Arthur moved it aside, earning a glare. He raised his brows in challenge. Ambrose got a shrewd look on his face. "You know- Gwen sometimes works in the emergency room."

"Ambrose," Arthur started, a warning in his tone.

Ambrose just smiled unconcernedly, and reached again for the glass. "Maybe Leo knows her, too."

Arthur held the wine over his head. "I think you all are just making her up."

"Why would we do that?"

"To mess with me." Arthur lowered the wine, and then drank it all at once. The spice burned down his chest, making him cough. Ambrose rolled his eyes and pounded a couple times on Arthur's back.

"Hate to break it to you, Arthur, but you're not that important."

Arthur pulled away, still rubbing his chest. "Then, please explain to me how is it possible that you, Gavin, Elle, Adam, David, and Shea all know her, but I don't?"

"Don't forget Leo."

"I'm not adding him on a hypothetical."

"I'll ask him then." Ambrose started walking toward the main room.

"No." Arthur grabbed his arm. "You're staying here."

Ambrose shook loose of his grasp and crossed his arms. "Admit it then."

"Admit what?"

"The only reason you made me come here tonight is because you'd get lonely otherwise."

"Get lonely?" Arthur sputtered. "I invited you, Ambrose, because I thought you could use a little culture in your life."

"In that case—" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder "—I'll go mingle. Get cultured."

"Don't you dare." Ambrose raised his brows. Arthur sighed, defeated. "Fine. I didn't want to suffer alone."

Ambrose leaned back on the wall beside him. "I should get a bonus for putting up with you."

"Excuse me?"

"Please." Ambrose flapped one hand at him. "You know you're high maintenance."

"High- you know what, Ambrose? You're right. I shouldn't deprive you of the opportunity to talk with our honored guests. Go. 'Mingle.'" He pushed Ambrose sideways until he stumbled toward the fireplace.

He took a step back toward the door, but then stopped. "I don't know."

"You're the one who said you didn't want to be stuck with me all night."

"I never said that, unless you're hearing things." Ambrose paused, his smile slipping off his face leaving something hard and searching. "Are you hearing things?"

Arthur resisted the urge to push back into the wall. "What? No. No, of course not. Look, I'll be fine."

Ambrose stared a second longer, then looked away. "You know, I almost miss Vivian." Arthur snorted. "You didn't make me wear ties when you were dating her."

"Go, Ambrose." Arthur waved him toward the door

"Fine, fine. I'm going. I'll have my cell if you need me." Ambrose stopped and turned again. "Are you sure you'll be fine alone?" His voice dripped with false concern.

"Go."

He grinned, all feints at care evaporating. "I'll ask Leo about Gwen for you."

"You mean you'll get Leo in on your little scheme."

"Whatever makes you feel better." He left with a cheeky grin. Arthur rolled his eyes. Then, turning away from the door Ambrose had left through, he got out his phone. He used his body to shield it so that no one in the other room, in particular his father, could see that he'd rather destroy zombies than be sociable.

"Arthur?" Arthur shoved his phone away and straightened as he turned. His cousin Anna had deigned to join the party.

"Anna."

"How nice to see you, again. Still bankrupting America's schools to line your own pockets?" Anna sidled up beside him, her back to the unlit fireplace.

Arthur forced a polite smile. "Oh, Anna, what a pleasure. Still making excuses for a broken system?"

Anna's smile was equally false. "You're too kind. Did you bring Vivian with you this evening? She is such a treat."

"Unfortunately, Viv and I are on the outs again."

"Pity."

"How about you? Anyone special?"

"If I had, do you honestly believe I'd be here?" She gestured at the room.

"The party isn't that bad."

"No, but the company could use improvement." Arthur followed her gaze to the doorway leading to the main room. He couldn't really disagree. His father used holidays as business opportunities, a chance to network, gain investors, and solidify supporters. Very few people in attendance weren't working an angle or hoping to gain something.

Arthur tried to think of a more pleasing topic for Anna. "How's your sister? You could have brought her."

"Right. Your father would have been so pleased."

"He isn't right on everything." Arthur looked forward to the day he'd be able to take over the company and change some of his father's intolerable policies.

Anna laughed. "And, lo, the marionette proves he is a real boy after all."

"I am not my father's puppet," he snapped back, stung.

"Of course not," Anna mocked. "I'm certain you have all sorts of ideas and thoughts of your own."

"Enough. How is your sister anyway? Are she and her girlfriend still together?" Arthur lowered his voice just in case anyone was listening in.

Anna pushed away from the wall, turning her back to him. "Don't pretend to care, Arthur. It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not—" Arthur made a frustrated noise. He stepped around so that he was facing Anna. "Look, it's Christmas."

"I did notice the surplus of colored lights and pine trees; your point?" She actually looked at him. He could tell she was as tired and bored as he was.

"Can't we call truce?" he asked. "At least for tonight? There are enough people here I don't want to deal with already."

Anna searched his face, likely looking for his angle. Then she nodded slightly. "Fine. Truce." She stepped back, looking around the room. "Is Ambrose here? Did he bring Janet?"

"Anna." He could not believe her. They had just called truce, and she was already going to snark on Ambrose's former beard.

Anna looked at him, annoyed. "I'm not being cruel, Arthur. I genuinely like Janet. Unlike you, Ambrose chooses girls who don't make me want to stab out my own ears."

"Leave Viv out of this."

"Oh, I hope to. What did you see in her anyway?"

"I don't know. When we're together, I can't imagine being apart. When we're apart, I can't remember why we ever got together in the first place."

"I heard Ambrose blames Elle." Anna sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The decorators had changed the pillows so that each featured a snowflake.

"You know Elle?"

"I do have friends, Arthur."

"You're not friends," he said, unsure. He and Elle had once attended gatherings like this one together, so it was feasible that Anna knew her, but Arthur thought he and Elle had stopped before Anna had returned to the city.

"No," Anna agreed. "But she did forward me some mail back in college when I had to transfer schools suddenly. Elle apparently took my place in my old apartment."

"No." He had heard that story before.

"No? What precisely is your objection?" Anna tilted her chin up at him.

"You can't know Gwen."

"Gwen Smith? Of course I know her. We were flatmates for about a year and a half. Why? Arthur, what's wrong?"

"Did Ambrose put you up to this?" Arthur asked, joining Anna on the sofa.

"Excuse me?" She twisted toward him.

Arthur sketched a circle with his hand. "This whole myth of Gwen thing."

"Just because you don't know her, Arthur, doesn't mean she isn't real."

"That's not what I—" Arthur stopped talking as every light in the room, and the one adjoining, first dimmed, and then went out. Even the candles crept down into nothing, as though a glass had been placed over each. Anna's breath caught, almost like a sob. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark."

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur," she replied automatically, without heat. She stood. As his eyes adjusted, he saw her move toward the mantle and the darkened candles. "Strange." She reached out to touch one of the wicks, when the lights suddenly returned. "Ouch!" Anna shook her hand. "Ow."

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"It burned me," she said, her voice soft with awe.

"You should run water over it."

"Right. Of course." Anna took a step back, and turned toward the door that led toward the kitchen. As she left, she turned back to look again at the candles on the mantle. Her gaze was soft, confused, and questioning. She blew on her burned fingers and left the room.

Arthur leaned back on the sofa, his arms stretched out along the top on either side. He watched the candles flicker and tried to concoct an explanation. Sometime later, though how much later he wasn't sure, he heard his father's voice from behind him.

"Arthur, you should be talking with your guests."

"Good evening, Father," he said, standing. He motioned back toward the candles. "Did you see—"

"Are you here alone?" his father interrupted. "Didn't I tell you to invite Elle along? The board members love her."

"Elle and I are just friends, Father." He was really tired of explaining.

"Friends is a good place to start."

"She's dating someone else. Has been."

"What about that other girl then?" He snapped and pointed at Arthur. "Alf's daughter."

"Vivian and I aren't seeing one another at the moment."

"You still could have brought her. Appearances do matter. Never mind, if you're here alone—"

"Arthur, I found—" Ambrose skidded to a stop just inside the room. "Sir," he said, inclining his head toward his father.

"Ambrose." His father's voice was distinctly unimpressed. "I see we shall be enjoying your company once again this evening. Dancing will start in thirty minutes. Arthur, I expect you to be there."

"Of course, Father."

"You will dance with Commissioner Edwards' daughter."

"Yes, Father." His father glanced disdainfully at Ambrose before returning to the guests in the main room.

"Is the honorable Arthur William Penn the Eighth playing matchmaker again?" Ambrose asked. His tone was teasing, but something about him seemed off. Arthur didn't feel like deciphering what, however. Ambrose had been acting 'off' since his birthday.

"Shut up, Ambrose." Arthur rubbed at the space between his eyes.

"I found Leo."

"So?"

"Not only does he know Gwen," Ambrose said, pointing at him, "but he knew Gwen's mum from back before Gwen was even born. They used to live in the same town, before he got married and moved to the city."

"Fantastic." He was tired of hearing about this mystery girl everyone else, except him knew.

"So you believe me now?"

"Anna convinced me."

"Anna knows Gwen?" Ambrose sounded surprised, though Arthur wasn't. Meeting people individually so that no one realized their mutual connections seemed to be this Gwen's super power

"Apparently they were roommates."

"Small world."

"You're telling me. I'm starting to suspect that, if she isn't a hoax, then I'm simply the last person in the world to meet her. So what's she like?"

"Huh?" Ambrose asked, seemingly startled. His face was pale. Arthur wondered if he should say anything.

"Gwen. If she isn't a myth, then you must be able to describe her."

Ambrose shrugged. "She's Gwen. Sweet, efficient, scarily driven. Oh! And she can hook you up with some of the best cookies ever made."

This sounded familiar. "Wait, when you brought those huge snickerdoodles to work and wouldn't let me have one-"

"You stole one anyway."

Arthur pinched his nose, wondering if Ambrose ever let anything go. "You didn't need all three. Didn't you learn how to share while growing up?"

"I was going to save it for the next day."

"It'd have been no good by then. At least this way it didn't go to waste. But," Arthur raised one hand, forestalling the response he knew Ambrose would give. "Back to topic. Gwen made those?"

"She brought them, yeah, but she didn't make them. Her best friend's mom sends them to her regular, and always more than Gwen can eat."

"I have got to meet this Gwen."

"You just want her cookies," Ambrose said with a sly smile.

"Well, yeah. Come on." He motioned toward the main rooms. "We should head to the dance floor."

"We?" Ambrose asked, pointing between them.

"You didn't think I was going to make a fool of myself alone out there, did you? I'm sure the Commissioner's daughter has friends."

Ambrose groaned. "I hate dancing."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ambrose," he commanded.

"Yes, Si—" Ambrose froze. Arthur looked back at him quizzically.

"Ambrose?"

Ambrose blinked, then stumbled sideways, reaching for the back of the sofa. "I'm fine. Fine. Really. So dancing?" His face was no longer pale, but white and looked damp.

Arthur frowned. "I think you should sit down. I'll get Leo to look after you."

"I don't need a babysitter," he protested.

"Sit down, Ambrose." Arthur took his arm and pulled him around the sofa. Ambrose fell back onto the cushions with a sigh. Arthur looked around and tried to spot Leo's red-gold curls. Leo usually lingered in or near the game room.

"He's with Kayley." Ambrose leaned his head back against the sofa, his eyes closed. "In the playroom."

Arthur nodded. He made his way through the sundry guests with nods and brief smiles. "Excuse me. I'm sorry." Several people caught on his sleeve, asking him his opinions about the common core or about the teachers at the branch in New York who had unionized. Arthur muttered practiced soundbites and slipped past them as quickly as he could. When he reached the hall, he paused and caught his breath before continuing to the playroom. The door was closed, but he could still hear loud laughter from inside. Arthur opened the door. Leo was on his hands and knees with one child on his back and two more standing around, jumping and clapping. Kayley was standing with them. She kept telling Leo to 'do the bronco, Daddy.' In another corner, a woman was watching three other children play what appeared to be cops v. a fireman, with babies.

Then one boy saw him. "Mr. Knight, there's a grown up here."

"Excuse me, Leo," Arthur said, "but I need you."

Leo slid down to his stomach with a groan. "All right. Your turn's over, Geoffrey. Keep an eye on these two, Kayley."

"Okay, Daddy." Leo messed her dark curls as he stood and turned to Arthur.

"What's wrong?"

"Ambrose is sick. He's on the couch in the game room. I don't know what's wrong."

"I'll look after him. You should get back to the party. Don't want your father to think you're playing hooky."

"Thank you."

"It's no problem."

"At least get him into one of the guest rooms."

Leo took Arthur by his shoulders and gently turned him around. "I know how to do my job, Arthur. Don't worry." He pushed him out the door, following behind. "Dancing should be starting soon."

"Yes, damn it. I can hear the music starting up. Father wants me to dance with the commissioner's daughter."

"Ria Edwards?" Leo asked. "I heard she's very pretty."

"I don't care if she's Helen of Troy," Arthur said. "I just got out of a relationship."

Leo squeezed his shoulder. "Maybe you just need to find the right girl."

"You sound like my father."

"Or guy," Leo added.

"And now you sound like Gavin."

"Get back to your party, Arthur. I'll take care of your friend."

"Right. Okay." Arthur took a deep, steeling breath, and then once again joined the crowd of guests.


	15. The Meeting, Sunday

A/N: This part was written by MiroSlav.

If you have any suggestions on what any of the characters' favorite carol would be, let us know! We'll be incorporating some carols into the story later on. :)

In which Arthur helps a random stranger move into an apartment, and finally meets Gwen.

_Sunday, December 11, 2011_

Arthur was rethinking his plan to wander the city for the afternoon. For one thing, it was freezing. For another, he might have turned left when he should have turned right approximately three blocks back and now he wasn't exactly certain where he was.

He scowled down at his cell phone, wondering if he should try to pull up where he was on Google Maps and figure out a way home. This was all Ambrose's fault, somehow, he thought. Usually Arthur would have been at Ambrose or Gavin's places on a Sunday afternoon, but the former had mumbled something about getting his place in order for David's visit, and the latter had grinned and said something about already having plans to freeload elsewhere.

Arthur paused to lean against a brick wall, frowning at his cell for another moment. He thumbed down his list of apps, and paused at the sound of someone cursing in frustration. He looked up in time to watch a man about his age nearly stagger off the sidewalk into the street.

The man barely caught himself in time, glaring down at the box in his arms like it'd betrayed him somehow. He was apparently moving into the nearby apartment building, judging by an open car stuffed with cardboard boxes and what looked like a laptop in its case and a lamp.

"Need some help?" Arthur found himself asking. He could practically hear Ambrose's voice commenting in exaggerated shock about his Good Samaritan act even as the man turned to him in obvious surprise.

The other man gave him a long look, his eyes flicking over Arthur's frame. Apparently taking Arthur's expensive clothes as a sign that he wasn't in fact a robber, the man relaxed a little. "It's okay, really," he said. "I've got a couple friends coming in a half-hour when the actual U-haul is arriving. I just thought I'd get a head start on moving in." He made a face. "Apparently not one of my best ideas."

"You'll want to at least take your computer up if you wait for your friends," Arthur said. This wasn't a particularly bad part of the city, but it wasn't the best either. Leaving a laptop in a car was asking for it to be stolen.

The man set his box back into the trunk of his card and winced, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Probably a good idea," he said, and extended his hand. "I'm Elliot."

"Arthur," Arthur said, accepting his hand. "Are you sure you don't need any help? I've honestly got nothing to do today. Might as well be productive somehow. And I can always leave once your friends get here."

Elliot shrugged. "Sure, as long as you don't expect to get paid." He grinned. "Then again, if you want some form of payment, I've got plenty of cookies. My mother forced about three tins of them on me when I went home for a visit."

As if on cue, Arthur's stomach rumbled.

Elliot laughed. "I'm taking that as a yes. C'mon, grab the box labeled Photo Albums and I'll show you the place." He slung the strap of his laptop bag over one shoulder and then picked up a box himself. Apparently this wasn't the heavy one that had nearly defeated him, because he hefted it into his arms with barely any exertion.

"Your mom makes a lot of cookies," Arthur commented. "Not that I'm complaining, but most mothers would tell their sons to eat healthier, not shove cookies at them." His mother hadn't baked often, he remembered; she'd prefer to cook when his father wasn't home and she could convince the cook to let her play around in the kitchen.

Elliot laughed again. "Well, my mom can't cook to save her life, so I think she overcompensates by baking."

Elliot's apartment was small and sparse. Apparently Elliot was bringing in all of his own furniture. Looking around, Arthur wondered if Elliot would even be able to fit everything inside.

"Just set everything next to the wall by the door," Elliot said. "The movers are going to bring in the heavier stuff, so I figured I could just pile boxes in this corner for the time being and then rearrange stuff once all the big pieces of furniture are in place."

"Good idea," Arthur said. He set the box down. As soon as he did, the smell of cinnamon reached him. He inhaled deeply for a moment, mouth watering a little at the delicious scent. Then a thought struck him and he raised an eyebrow. "You brought your mom's cookies up first? Before your laptop?"

Elliot shrugged. "My mom's cookies are just that amazing." Apparently Arthur's face conveyed his disbelief because Elliot grinned and gestured towards what Arthur suspected was the kitchen. "Go ahead, try one."

"Okay," Arthur said. He inwardly laughed, imagining Ambrose's expression when Arthur told him how he'd missed out on supposedly delicious cookies. He opened the tin, blinking a little-he hadn't realized you could put so many cookies into one tin-and took one of the larger ones.

"She even has a secret ingredient she adds to her snickerdoodles," Elliot said as Arthur raised the cookie to his lips and took a big bite.

It was delicious. And also familiar- he'd had this snickerdoodle before.

Arthur nearly choked. "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," he said through a spray of cookie crumbs. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he paused and counted to ten again. Still, there was no way Ambrose would be bored enough to ask a random stranger that Arthur _might_ happen to stumble upon to play along in this Gwen Smith game.

"So," he said a little wearily, "how do you know Gwen Smith?"

When he turned, Elliot was staring at him. "You know Gwen?" he asked, and laughed. "Small world! I move to the city, and the first person I talk to knows-"

Someone knocked on the door. "Elliot!" a woman's voice called, and Arthur's throat unaccountably tightened. Was this the Gwen apparently _everyone_ knew? Judging by the way Elliot's face lit up and he sprang to the door, it was.

"Gwen!" Elliot said, opening the door wide. "You're early! And you brought a friend." There was a curious, amused note in his voice.

Gwen laughed. Her voice carried into the room, equally amused. "He's a friend, not a _friend_, so don't even start. I just made the mistake of mentioning you as the guy whose mother bakes all those amazing cookies. Gavin decided he'd 'help.'"

"Well, nice to meet you, Gavin. Gavin, Gwen, this is-"

"Arthur?" Gavin squinted at him as though his eyes were playing tricks on him. "How do you know Elliot?"

"We just met," Arthur said, but his attention was focused on the woman who was standing next to Elliot and staring at Arthur as though she'd seen a ghost. She was beautiful, despite the stunned look in her dark eyes and the way her face had turned an ashy brown.

"Gwen?" Elliot asked, frowning and touching her elbow.

Gwen jumped as though he'd grabbed her. She blinked hard for a moment, wearing much the look of awe that Anna had the night before with the candles. Then she shook his head and attempted a weak smile. "I'm fine," she said. There was only the slightest trace of a hitch to her voice. "Just took the stairs too fast, I think."

Arthur stepped forward, extending the tin to her. "Maybe you need something to eat," he said.

Her smile was less forced, though still a little tremulous around the edges. Her eyes met his, filled with some unknown emotion that made Arthur's stomach twist; she seemed to be searching for something in his face.

After a moment though, she let out a quick breath, the strange look in her eyes replaced by something very much like resignation, and said, "Thank you. That'll probably do the trick." She took one of the snickerdoodles and then turned away, squaring her shoulders. "Elliot, you do realize now that you're living in the big city, you need to remember to lock your car doors when you leave your car on the curb, right?"

"So how did you meet Elliot again?" Gavin asked sotto voce. "You can't have just met."

Arthur, watching Gwen roll her eyes and smack Elliot lightly upside the head, shrugged a little helplessly.

"Small world," Gavin said with a shrug of his own, and then snaked a snickerdoodle from the tin. He took a bite, his eyes widening. "Holy shit, these are delicious. Elliot, have I mentioned how glad I am that you've decided to live here?"

Elliot exchanged an amused look with Gwen; apparently she'd warned him about Gavin, because Elliot responded dryly, "I'm hurt. You only love me for my cookies."

"Damn straight," Gavin said, stealing the entire tin from Arthur's unresisting hands. "Though I'm sure you're a good guy," he added through a mouthful of snickerdoodle as Gwen made a face at him. "Gwen's best friend has to be great."

"Thanks," Elliot said as Arthur fished out his cell phone.

_Finally met your Gwen_, he texted Ambrose, trying to ignore the unaccountable feeling that he'd disappointed Gwen within the first two minutes of meeting her.

A second later, his phone beeped.

_What? how?_

_Met Elliot, then met Gwen_, he typed, one eye on his cell, the other on the color gradually returning to Gwen's face as she rested her head briefly on Elliot's shoulder and accepted a snickerdoodle from Gavin.

_What do you think of her? _Ambrose asked.

Arthur shook his head. _I have no idea_. He looked up from his phone. "Well, uh, looks like your friends are here, so I'll get going," he said. Curiosity was a tight knot in his stomach, but he ignored it. He could grill Gavin about her later. Besides, he'd already told Elliot he'd stick around until his friends got there; sticking around now would probably be considered odd.

Elliot shook his head. "You don't have to go," he said. "I mean, you seem to know Gwen and Gavin-"

"I don't know him," Gwen said quickly, overlapped by Arthur's too-loud, "I don't know her!" They stared at each other again before Gwen cleared her throat and added, "We've never met."

"Which is weird when you think about it," Gavin said cheerfully. Thankfully he'd swallowed his latest cookie this time, so no one was sprayed with crumbs.

"Weird?" Gwen echoed sharply, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you remember that photo Ambrose sent you of his birthday party?" When Gwen slowly nodded, Gavin jerked a thumb at Arthur. "He was the one behind the camera. He's Ambrose's best friend. And he's been friends with me for a while, and Elle for apparently forever."

Gwen turned to stare at him again with wide eyes. "You're _Ambrose_'s Arthur?" she said.

"I'm not Ambrose's Arthur. I'm just Arthur, who happens to be friends with Ambrose," Arthur said. He could feel his face getting warm as Gwen continued to stare. "And, uh, I think you actually know my cousin as well. Anna Isle? You might've known her as Anna North."

Gwen let out a strangled sound that could've been a laugh, and shook her head. "You even know both of my ex-roommates," she said, marveling "How do you know both my ex-roommates?"

"Elle and I went to-" Arthur began to explain, when Elliot interrupted him.

"Wait, how many people do you both know?" Elliot asked, glancing between them. "Is this some sort of weird reverse of seven degrees of Kevin Bacon?"

Gavin laughed. "I like that. Seven degrees of Gwen." He glanced between Arthur and Gwen and finally seemed to notice the tension in the air. "So, seven degrees of Gwen, let's play that another time," he said hastily. "Who likes sports?"

"_Sports_ is a little vague," Elliot said with a chuckle. "I prefer basketball, personally."

Gavin grinned like the cat who'd just caught the canary. "Basketball? Well, if you're up for a game, me, Arthur, and a couple of guys who volunteer at the same shelter I do are playing a friendly game on Friday. We'd be glad to have another player."

"Really?" Elliot said, looking intrigued. "I haven't had a chance to play in a while."

Gavin clapped him on the back. "Then consider yourself invited. Right, Arthur?"

"Right." Arthur cleared his throat. "Will, uh, will you be there as well?" he asked Gwen.

"Well, Ambrose and Gavin have tried to drag me along before, but basketball's not really my thing. Still, if Elliot's going, he'll want a cheering squad," Gwen said a little dryly, startling a laugh out of Arthur. Ambrose hadn't mentioned her sense of humor.

"I guess I'll see you there," Arthur said. She smiled, and Arthur found himself smiling back and hoping she'd keep looking at him. Ambrose definitely hadn't mentioned how pretty she was.

"I guess you will," she said.

"Well, let's get those boxes out of your car," Gavin said. He stepped past Arthur to set the cookie tin away, flashing him a knowing grin that Arthur didn't trust at all. "And yeah, you should really lock your car, Elliot. Getting stuff stolen is not the best way to break in a new apartment."

"Okay, okay," Elliot said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm going. There's a box that might need the both of us to lift it, though."

"Sure thing," Gavin said. This time he nudged Arthur with his elbow as he walked past. "Hey, Arthur, less flirting, more helping Elliot with the boxes."

"More helping? You were only here for the cookies!" Arthur protested.

"So no argument on the flirting then?" Gavin drawled.

"What? Shut up," Arthur said, feeling heat creep back into his face.

Gwen laughed, the sound bright and sudden, and Arthur found himself staring again. Yeah, there were definitely things Ambrose had neglected to mention.


	16. The Experiments, Monday

A/N: This section was written by Miroslav.

In which Ambrose confides in Adam, and remembers a series of magical experiments.

_Monday, December 12, 2011_

Ambrose let the door slam shut behind him and tossed his bag at the couch, putting all of his frustration into the throw. Too late, he realized Adam was already sitting on the far end of the couch. "Uh, sorry."

"Well, hello to you too," Adam said dryly, blinking first at the bag that had nearly hit him and then at Ambrose. He frowned, concern creeping into his expression. It had become a familiar look on Adam's face since the previous Monday. "Aren't you home a bit early?"

"Arthur sent me home. Said I looked like death warmed over and that he didn't want to catch it," Ambrose explained, fighting to keep the irritation from his voice.

"I can't say I disagree," Adam said quietly, and then patted the spot next to him. "You know, if you want to talk about it-"

The automatic denial rose to his lips, but then Ambrose thought about it. He was tired, confused, and pretty much as clueless as he'd been during his birthday party. Maybe talking about this with someone would be helpful.

"This is going to sound weird and a little crazy," he said, sitting down.

Something flickered across Adam's face at that, there and gone too quickly for Ambrose to decipher. "I've been hearing that a lot lately," he said. "What's going on?"

Ambrose took a deep breath. He'd meant to start slow, work his way around to the whole 'having weird dreams and remembering memories about myself and Arthur, and also apparently being able to defy the laws of science' issue. His brain seemed to have other plans, because when he opened his mouth, what came out was, "I can apparently do magic."

"Magic," Adam repeated. He was quiet for a moment, expressionless. Then he set aside the book resting in his lap and turned to face Ambrose, fixing him with an intent look. "And by magic you mean…?"

Ambrose pulled out a candle from his bag and held it between him and Adam on the couch. "Lumos," he said quietly. A second later, the candle was burning, a pale flame that warmed Ambrose's face and flickered wildly in the wake of Adam's sharp exhale. "Nox."

The candle went out, and Adam lightly touched the blackened spot on the wick. "It's cold," he said in surprise.

"I've been testing with a variety of candles, and a variety of languages- Rowling's fake spells work best, I'm not sure why, and I even-"

"Wait," Adam said, and Ambrose realized he'd begun to babble. "Start at the beginning."

"Remember when I mentioned the weird thing with the candle at my party? I told you it must have been one of Arthur's stupid pranks, but it wasn't. Since then I've been doing research. I've bought candles from a half-dozen stores, done so many experiments-"

_**Experiment # 1 **_**– **_**Monday, December 5, 2011**_

"Okay," Ambrose said into the quiet of his bedroom. His voice wobbled, and he cleared his throat. He had the candle from the restaurant in front of him as well as a candle bought from the dollar store two blocks over.

The wand felt slippery in his hand, but maybe that was just his sweaty palm. He cleared his throat and pointed the wand at the restaurant candle. "Lumos," he said, and flinched back as the candle flickered into life. He turned the wand onto the dollar store candle. "Lumos," he said again.

A laugh scraped its way past his throat when a flame lit that candle as well. "Shit," he said to himself, wonder and fear mingled in the soft tremulous tone. "Well, that's…interesting."

****_**Experiment # 2 – Tuesday, December 6, 2011**_

This time the wand was safely tucked away in his sock drawer. Ambrose stared grimly at the three candles on his desk. He pointed a finger at one. "Lumos," he said, and smiled when nothing happened. His smile died two seconds later when a flame struggled into being.

"Lumos," he said, pointing his finger at the next candle. This time there was no hesitation- the flame instantly flared into being, leaping higher than any of the other flames had before.

Ambrose's heart was pounding too hard; he could taste something bitter on his tongue. Adrenaline, he realized, and swallowed. He raised his hands to stare at them. They looked the same they always did—there was a paper cut still healing on his thumb, the white star-shaped scar on the crease of his palm from where he accidentally jabbed himself with a pencil when he was nineteen.

No, they didn't look any different, but Ambrose found himself studying them like they belonged to a stranger. After a long moment, he clenched his hands into fists, letting them drop to his sides. "Well," he said, feeling laughter threatening to burst forth again, "I guess it wasn't the wand."

****_**Experiment # 3 – Tuesday, December 6, 2011**_

Ambrose squinted at the computer screen for a moment before turning back to the candle. "Galad," he said, slowly and distinctly. This time he didn't twitch as the flame glowed blue, but he still found himself a little breathless. "Okay, so Sindarin works." He made a notation in his notebook, pleased when his hand didn't shake too badly.

Once he was finished, he reached for his Latin-English dictionary, as well as pulling up a Japanese-English online dictionary. "Time to try some real languages."

****_**Experiment # 6 – Wednesday, December 7, 2011**_

Ambrose glanced down at his list of possible spells, and then back up at the book resting on his bed. He cleared his throat, excitement and nerves making it hard to breathe. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said, and laughed as the book lifted up into the air and floated above his head.

There was a knock on the door. Ambrose drove for the book, snatching it out of the air just as Adam poked his head inside. "Dinner's ready," Adam said, raising an eyebrow as Ambrose turned a too-bright grin on him.

"Great!" Ambrose said, hearing the false note in his voice. "I'll be there in a second!"

Adam paused and opened his mouth to say something. Apparently deciding against it, he shook his head. "Make sure you come downstairs before the food gets cold," he said, and left.

Ambrose waited for a moment, and then whispered, "Okay, let's avoid anything that even _sounds_ like the Killing Curse."

****_**Present**_

"And, Adam," Ambrose said, "I've been having these _dreams_-"

-_dreams of magic, how it felt to raise his hand and speak words that scorched his throat and made the air crackle with power; the rush of sheer joy he felt when his rumbled attempts at a spell finally transformed into magic; the way a whispered word tasted of bittersweet wonder when he forced breath back into a dying companion's lungs and watched the blue fade from their lips-_

"Dreams?" Adam prompted when Ambrose tried to go on and found his mouth had dried up, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

Ambrose got up and started to pace. He swallowed hard, trying to work up enough spit to speak. He waved a hand. "Dreams about using magic, more than just lighting candles. I'm talking about big, dangerous magic." He closed his eyes. "I dreamed that I could talk to dragons, Adam."

He was quiet for a moment, surprised to find that he was breathing hard, like he'd just run instead of paced the room a few times.

"Have you spoken to Gwen about this?"

Ambrose turned to stare. Of all the things he'd expected Adam to say, asking about Gwen hadn't been one of them. "Gwen?" He laughed a little. "Yeah, no. She's busy enough with her residency, I don't want to bother her with this. Especially since. Uh." He cleared his throat. "I started using magic when she gave me a toy wand, and David…David said he had a weird flash of memory after Gwen sent Shea some toy knights. I'm not sure why there's a connection, but Gwen's gifts are the only link between our experiences."

"David's experiencing these memory flashes too?" Adam said, still with that unreadable expression.

"Possibly? I only asked a few questions before I had to hang up. It's too weird to discuss over the phone." Ambrose ran a hand through his hair, the urge to laugh rising in his chest. "I was going to talk to him about it when he got here Thursday. Still don't know what to tell him. 'Hey, looks like I can do magic and we're remembering stuff that never happened to us.' I nearly called Arthur 'Sire' at the party- sure, he's as rich as Midas, but he's not _actually_ royalty."

"Does anyone else know?" Adam asked.

"No-" Ambrose said, and then stopped. "Arthur's cousin might have seen me right after I tried some magic at the Christmas party," he said. "But she didn't see anything, I don't think-"

****_**Saturday, December 10, 2011**_

Ambrose watched all the candles relight, and let out a slow, wondering breath. Exhaustion dragged at him, weighing him down, but he couldn't help but marvel a little. The spell had exceeded even his wildest expectations—not only had all the candles in the room died, but all the _electric _lights had gone out as well.

He blinked at a sudden surge of dizziness. Apparently performing a more intricate level of that spell took a lot of energy. He headed towards the kitchen, scribbling his observations into the little notebook he'd taken to carrying around.

He bumped into someone, and stumbled backwards with a startled, instinctive "Sorry!"

"Ambrose!" Anna fixed him with an irritated look. There were two spots of color on her cheeks, fever-bright, no doubt from annoyance and bad temper. "Look where you're going."

"Yeah, I'm s- are you okay?" Ambrose asked, staring at Anna's hand, which she was cradling to her chest.

"I burned myself on one of the candles," Anna said shortly. Then something softened in her face. "Did you see them? The way they all went out at once with the electricity, and then all lit back up like…." She trailed off, gazing into space, a small, puzzled frown puckering her mouth.

"I saw them. Weird, huh? I wonder who thought putting joke candles all around the party was a good idea. Your uncle's probably furious." Ambrose was striving for a light tone, but apparently something in his tone and laughter was off. His stomach twisted. The spell had gone farther than the room he'd been in? That hadn't been part of the plan.

Anna blinked, the unfocused look vanishing as her eyes focused on him with an intensity that made him fidget and want to hide his notebook behind his back. After a moment, though, she shook her head. "It was," she agreed with an odd twist of her lips, and then stalked past him without another word.

****_**Present**_

"I don't think she knows anything," Ambrose said with a quick shrug. "She probably thought that I was weirded out by the candles flickering on and off like that."

Adam was quiet. When Ambrose looked at him, the older man's expression was pensive, the deep furrow between his eyes deepening in thought and concern. "I don't know what to tell you," Adam said at last. "You've done experiments, you tell me, experiments where magic actually works. And you and David- you both seem to be having incredibly vivid dreams." He was quiet again. "May I see your notes? Perhaps I'll be able to make some sense of them."

"Of course," Ambrose said, gratefully offering the notebook. "So you don't think this all sounds crazy?"

"Ambrose, you are a most unusual young man, but mentally ill you are not," Adam said, beginning to thumb through Ambrose's notes. He looked up and met Ambrose's gaze. "While I look at this, however, I suggest you speak to Gwen about this. You've obviously been working yourself too hard trying to figure this out on your own, and while two heads are better than one, I think Gwen would be helpful as well."

Ambrose frowned. "Maybe you're right," he said, and sighed. "I don't know what to say to her."

"Try starting with the 'Lumos' spell," Adam suggested dryly. "It's extremely convincing."


	17. The Gumball Machine, Tuesday

A/n: LilyAyl wrote this part. There are two chapters today. Sorry for the delay.

In which Gavin and Gwen bicker over a bill and talk a little of dreams.

_Tuesday, December 13 2011_

"I suppose I should get this then," Gwen said, closing her hand over the receipt. "I did promise you pizza for helping Elliot."

Gavin scratched awkwardly at his neck. "I only said that to get you to come out to lunch," he said. "I can pay my half."

"It's all right," Gwen said with a kind smile. "I don't mind." She picked up the slip of paper and slid out of the booth.

He winced. "And now I insist." He plucked the paper from her fingers. "In fact, I'll pay for the entirety."

"Gavin," Gwen said, somewhat disapproving. She wasn't sure what Gavin did when he wasn't volunteering, but she knew it never left him flush with cash. She reached for the receipt, but he pulled it high overhead.

"I've got it, Gwen," he said, too seriously. Then he smiled. "Consider it payback for all the cookies."

"Those were Elliot's," she pointed out.

Gavin shrugged. "Close enough."

"Just let me pay," Gwen said, holding out her hand.

Gavin stepped back. "You can pay me back half," he said. Then he turned and half-jogged up to the register.

Gwen bit her lip, but didn't insist anymore, not wanting to make a scene. She slipped on her coat and scarf, and then grabbed Gavin's things he'd left behind. His coat was old, but of good quality. The scarf was long, bright green, and filled with knots and gaps. "Did Elle make this for you?" Gwen asked, holding up the scarf as she reached the register.

Gavin took the scarf and wrapped it twice around his neck. "Yeah. She finished this weekend. Suits me, doesn't it?"

The color was ridiculous, but it did match him well. "It's wonderful." She held out his coat to him. Gavin slid in one arm, then paused to sign the receipt before continuing to pull the coat fully on and buttoning it up. "You really didn't have to pay," Gwen said, watching him.

"Christmas bonus," he said. "What better way to spend it than on friends?"

"That was my Christmas present?" Gwen asked. "Had I known, I might have saved a piece."

"Shh," Gavin said. "The others might get jealous I got you something special."

Gwen laughed. "Then I'll just have to find some way of making us even so it doesn't count," she said. "Maybe I can braid your hair for you or—"she noticed a row of gumball machines along the entry way to the door"—I can get you a—"she looked down the various options, fake tattoos, bouncy balls, sticky dinosaurs—"dragon necklace."

"I don't know," Gavin said, bending over her shoulder. "Looks a bit rich for me."

"Hush," she said. Gwen put in her coins and turned the knob. A large capsule butted against the thin metal flap. "Merry Christmas," she said, handing the capsule to Gavin.

Gavin took it, looking amused. "You give the best gifts, Gwen," he said, opening it and pulling out a black cord with a round, metal pendant hanging from it. The cord was too small for him to wear around his neck, so he wrapped it twice around his wrist and held his hand up for Gwen to see. "I'll treasure it al—" He stopped, his head suddenly turning to look behind him. "Did you hear that?" he asked, sharply.

Gwen's eyes widened. "No," she said. "What did you hear?"

He frowned. "It must have been nothing." Yet, the tension in his shoulders and the tightness in his mouth belied his words. The stance was frustratingly familiar; Gwen recognized it from her mirror. His body clenched, and Gwen wondered if he was hearing something again.

"I have something to tell you," she said slowly, hoping she wasn't making a terrible mistake. "But I'm not certain I should."

"I can keep a secret," Gavin said, furrowing his brow at her.

Gwen smiled ruefully. "You'll think me strange, I'm afraid," she said.

"Gwen," Gavin said, gesturing to himself, brows raised.

"Well," she said, affecting a teasing tone. He raised his brows further and held out his hands in an expectant pose. "Oh, all right. I had a dream."

"Fairly typical," Gavin said, holding open the door for her. "I'd have thought you'd learned that in med school."

She glared at him. "About Arthur."

Now he grinned. "Also fairly typical. One might even say expected."

"_Before _I met him," Gwen clarified, before he could run his mouth any further and make her cheeks warm any more.

"All right, now there you've got me. Are you sure?"

"Completely. I know it's crazy. I thought it was just a dream."

"Maybe it's fate," he offered.

"I don't believe in fate. Then again, I don't believe in—well, it's impossible anyway."

"I don't know," Gavin said, pausing by the steps leading down to the subway. "This does seem to be the season for 'impossible.'"

"What do you mean?"

"Ambrose never told you about his candle trick?" He sounded surprised. "One minute the candle was out, the next, whoosh, flames." The wind picked up around them; Gwen rearranged her scarf, closing gaps.

"When was this?" she asked, distractedly.

"At his birthday party. He put it out with just a word, too."

Gwen looked up from her scarf. "He did magic," she said, without the slightest doubt.

Gavin shrugged, his hands now shoved deep into his coat pockets. "It looked that way. He seemed to think it could be something chemical." Gwen knew it wasn't. "Well," Gavin said, after an awkward moment of silence. "I should get to my train." He motioned backward toward the steps with one shoulder.

"Of course," Gwen said. "And I have a bus to catch. Sorry. It was fantastic getting lunch with you." She gave him a quick hug.

"Likewise." Gavin tightened his arms around her before she could step back. "You need to stop being so busy."

She smiled. "I'll try. Oh, and Gavin—" she stopped him a few steps from street level. He looked back at her. "If you start having strange or impossible dreams of your own, call me."

"No offense, Gwen, but I really hope I don't start dreaming of Arthur. He's plenty attractive, sure, but I'm happy with Elle."

Gwen made a noise of frustration in the back of her throat, causing Gavin to laugh. "That's not what I meant."

"I know," he said. He crossed one hand over his heart, as though pledging to the flag. The dragon pendant hung over his cuff. "I promise. Any strange dreams and you're my first call. Be warned, my dreams have been known to feature houses made of pudding and feathered bananas."

"Go catch your train," Gwen said, shaking her head. Gavin flashed another amused grin and then jogged down the steps to the subway, whistling. Gwen worried at her lip once more, wondering which she hoped for more, that he did get the strange dreams of an impossible past or that he didn't.


	18. The Nightmare, Wednesday

A/n: This section was written by MiroSlav. It contains a brief flashback to season 1's "To Kill the King."

**Two chapters were posted today. Make sure you didn't skip over chapter 17, The Gumball Machine.**

In which Gwen has a nightmare, and she and her father discuss holiday plans.

_Wednesday, December 14, 2011_

Gwen woke with a gasp, reaching out blindly. Her shaking hands skidded across her blanket, the fabric too soft and all wrong-

_The horse blanket scratched her palms as she clutched at her father's too-still leg, but it was a distant pain, nothing compared to the way her chest felt, cracked open and emptied of everything but grief and loss, the unending sobs ripping from her throat-_

She had her cell phone in her hand. It wasn't until it began to ring that she realized she'd even pressed a button.

"Gwen?" Her father's voice was roughened by sleep. "It's 4 in the morning…." There was a rustling sound, and she imagined him sitting upright and squinting at the alarm clock. Concern sharpened his voice as he asked, "Is everything okay?"

Gwen opened her mouth, but instead of words, another sob tore from her throat. Her face was wet with tears, she realized, and swiped at her eyes with the hand not clutching her phone. "Sorry," she forced past trembling lips. The sobs rattled her entire body as she gasped and struggled to breathe, to get some control over herself. "Sorry, bad dream, just- talk to me. Please."

"Okay, Gwennie," Tom said gently. He made a little considering noise in the back of his throat. "Well, you know the first rules of shop—one, wear your goggles at all times, and two, don't go near the equipment unless I'm supervising. Well, yesterday I stepped outside the room to talk to the principal about the holiday show. I come in, and what do you think this kid's doing? Trying to show off to his girlfriend with one of the machines and about to lose his thumb in the process."

Her father kept talking, recounting story after story as Gwen tried to calm herself down. The dream stayed with her, though, so real that she could feel the way the sun had beat down on her as she'd stumbled after the cart, the dust-crusted leather of her father's boot as she clutched at him and tried to deny the truth.

It seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes or so before Gwen finally got herself under control. Her father must have heard the steadiness of her breathing because he stopped halfway through a story about one of his fellow teachers and asked, "Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?"

"Not really," Gwen said with a weak laugh. Her eyes were itchy and her throat hurt. She'd have to drink some cold water unless she wanted to sound hoarse at the hospital today.

Tom paused. "Was the nightmare- was it about your mother?" he asked. She could hear an echo of her grief in his voice.

"No," Gwen said. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath. No, this dream had been nothing like the nightmares she'd endured after her mother's death, dreams in which she searched her house, getting more and more distressed over the fact that something was missing, although she hadn't known what, exactly, was gone. Gwen shook her head even though she knew her father couldn't see the gesture. "I haven't had one of those in a while. It was-" Her throat tightened, and she had to clear her throat before she continued. "It wasn't about anything real." Even if it had felt like a memory rather than a nightmare.

Tom was silent for a long moment. She wished she could see his face, figure out what he was thinking. Her father had always worn his emotions on his face for all to see. "You can change your plane tickets, can't you? Without any extra charge?" he asked.

Gwen blinked. "I think so," she said. "Why?"

"Change the tickets so that I'm visiting you instead," her father said.

"Dad," Gwen protested.

"No objections," Tom said. It was his 'nothing will change my mind' voice. Gwen sighed a little at hearing it, because there was really no point in arguing when he got that particular stubborn tone. "Besides," he added, obviously trying to sound lighthearted, "Adam came to visit me this weekend. I should return the favor."

"All right, I'll change the tickets in the morning," she said, and then winced at the bright red numbers reminding her that it technically already _was_ morning. "I'm sorry for waking you up like that. It was just a dream, I shouldn't-" 

"Gwen," her father said firmly. "You never have to apologize. You can _always_ call me." He paused again. "And talk to me about anything. You know that, right?"

"I know I can," Gwen said, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes again. For a moment she was tempted to tell him everything like she'd told Adam, but then she thought of how she'd sound, her voice hoarse from her crying fit as she talked about possible hallucinations and dreams that felt like memories, about recognizing a man she'd never met before except in dreams. She'd figure this out. Then she'd tell him what had been going on. "Thanks," she said instead. "I love you."

"I love you too," Tom said.

"Try and get some sleep," Gwen whispered, and heard a soft laugh in answer.

"I have to be up in a half-hour anyway. I think I'll take the extra time and make myself a decent breakfast for once," he said.

Gwen managed a smile. "Sounds good. I think I'll do the same," she said, even though she was anything but hungry. Her stomach roiled at the thought of breakfast. "Talk to you later, Dad."

"Love you, Gwennie," Tom said again.

Gwen ended the call and then sat in the semi-darkness for a moment, watching as light began to creep through her window.


	19. The Tapas, Thursday

A/N: This section was written by both LilyAyl and MiroSlav. All three of the charities referenced are real. The Jed Foundation works to prevent suicide and increase emotional health among college students. The livestock one actually references several different charities: Heifer International, Send a Cow, World Visions, Unicef, Practical Presents, etc. The toy donation likewise references several charities: Toys of Hope, Toys for Tots, Child's Play, etc.

In which David arrives in the city, and nearly everyone has dinner together. Features friendly bickering, some not-so-friendly bickering, and David and Ambrose being adorable.

(Gwen/Arthur, Elle/Gavin, David/Ambrose)

_Thursday, December 15, 2011_

**Ambrose**

Ambrose resisted the urge to check his cell. He had the phone set to ring at its loudest setting, there was no way that he was going to miss David's call, and yet-

"Do I need to take that away from you?" Gwen asked, sounding amused. When he blinked at her, she leaned against his shoulder, smiling slightly. It eased some of the strain from her face, if not the tired shadows under her eyes. "You've been eyeing your cell since you sat down."

"Have I?" Ambrose said.

"_Yes_," Elle and Gavin said together, and laughed.

"Yes, Ambrose, it's been very odd," Arthur drawled. "I kept feeling like we were all forgetting something and then realized it was just that you were being quiet for once in your life."

If Gwen hadn't been sitting right there, Ambrose might have needled Arthur for having been just as preoccupied before Gwen arrived. Since she was currently resting her head on Ambrose's shoulder, though, he settled for making a face at Arthur and getting revenge later.

"I don't know what we're going to do about the play," Elle said. She fiddled with her drink, turning it around and around in her hands. "The third ghost sprained his knee slipping on ice, and I don't know anyone who can fit in his costume." At Arthur's raised eyebrow, she added, "He's very tall."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Gavin told her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and added, "And the shelter owner will understand if things aren't perfect."

"Right," Elle said, but Ambrose caught the flash of impatience that flickered upon her face. Gavin had obviously said something very wrong in that attempt at reassurance.

"There's no way to alter-" Ambrose began, and then jumped as his phone began ringing, loudly enough that a few heads in the restaurant turned and glared. "Shit!" Ambrose dove for the cell, mumbling an apology as his elbow almost caught Gwen in the face.

"Hey," David said, his voice warm.

"Hey," Ambrose said a little breathlessly. He ignored Arthur's smirk. "Are you in the city yet?"

"Yes, Percy says we're on…South King Street," David said.

As Ambrose gave David instructions to get to the restaurant, he caught Gavin frowning at Gwen. Come to think of it, Gavin had been quieter than usual tonight. Were he and Elle having a fight?

"They'll be here in about twenty minutes, barring a traffic disaster," Ambrose announced, having ended the call with great reluctance.

"They?" Gwen asked, frowning. Then her expression cleared. "Oh, right, Percy's driving him."

"Percy? Is this another person who knew Gwen before Arthur-" Gavin asked. He stopped abruptly. Judging by the slight flinch, Arthur had kicked him under the table. Ambrose resisted the urge to wince in sympathy.

"No," Gwen said with a too-bright laugh. She darted a quick, flustered look at Arthur, but he didn't seem to notice, too busy scowling at Gavin. She relaxed after a second, adding, "I only know him through David's stories."

Ambrose nodded. "Percy teaches at Shea's school. Gym, I think. He offered David a ride since he was already spending the holidays with family in the city."

"That was nice of him," Elle said cheerfully.

"So you're doing A Christmas Carol?" Ambrose asked, trying to focus on the conversation.

"Trying to," Elle said, "although the lack of the third ghost is a bit of a problem. I guess I should be grateful it wasn't a huge part like Scrooge-"

"Oh, I don't know, I think Scrooge or Marley could've pulled off using a cane during the play," Gavin said. He shrugged. "Probably couldn't have gotten away with having Bob Cratchett or Fred having a cast on their leg, though."

"I can't wait to see the play," Gwen said.

Ambrose frowned. "How are you going to see the play? You'll be at your dad's."

"Oh," Gwen said, and looked down at the table. "I'm actually staying here for the holidays. My dad's coming to visit instead."

"Really?" Elle beamed even as Ambrose wondered what had caused the change in plans. "He can come see the play too, if he wants."

"I can ask him, but he'll probably skip it. I think he feels too sorry for Jacob Marley to enjoy the play," Gwen said, laughing a little.

That managed to lead into a conversation about everyone's favorite Carol characters. Ambrose tried to pay attention, he really did, but he kept looking towards the door, hoping to see David walk in.

When David finally did, a tall man following close behind and ducking a little to avoid hitting his forehead on the door frame, Ambrose leaped to his feet.

"Looks like David's here," Arthur said dryly.

David was frowning, scanning the restaurant. When his gaze landed on Ambrose, the frown fled, replaced by a smile that made Ambrose's mouth go dry. He was already moving towards them, he realized. Two steps more and he could throw his arms around David, which he did.

"David," he said into David's shoulder. David didn't wear cologne, but he smelled faintly of the cold air outside and even more faintly of the honey shampoo he liked to use.

David's hand settled on the back of Ambrose's neck, squeezing it gently for a moment. "Ambrose," he answered back; this close, Ambrose could feel his name rumble through David's chest.

After a moment, Ambrose forced himself to step back. He was grinning stupidly, he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care very much. "Come on," he said, motioning over his shoulders in what he figured was the direction of their table. "We've just been having a salad bowl and drinks. We didn't want to order without you." He dragged his focus away from David's smile to turn to the tall man who had to be Percy. "Percy, right?" When the other man nodded, Ambrose stuck out his hand. "I'm Ambrose."

"Figured," Percy said in a slow, deep voice. He grinned and shook Ambrose's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, thanks for driving David. We have an extra seat if you want to join us for dinner."

Percy shrugged, and Ambrose was beginning to get a crick in his neck trying to look him in the face. "Never turn down food," Percy said. "Thanks."

David touched Ambrose's arm lightly. "Let's have a seat," David suggested, smiling. "I'm sure your waitress has been hoping you all actually order dinner for a while now."

Ambrose laughed, all the anxieties of the past week seeming momentarily distant. "I already told Arthur he has to leave a huge tip for her," Ambrose said. He leaned a little into David's touch. "Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone."

**Gwen**

Gwen smiled, watching as Ambrose all but tackled David.

"Gwen," a low voice hissed at her. She blinked and turned in her seat to find Gavin had taken the moment to get out of his seat and come over to her. He was frowning, a tense crease between his eyes that she'd never seen before. "So, about these dreams," he whispered. "Would they be the sort with swords, the living dead, and you all dressed up like a princess?"

Gwen stared at him for a moment, struggling between relief and fear. She recognized that tension in his voice now, the urgency in his expression. He had been experiencing the same things she'd been enduring since Thanksgiving. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it briefly. "I'll talk to you after dinner, okay?" she said, giving him a quick smile. "It's going to be weird, but you're not the only one experiencing it."

"Experiencing what?" Arthur asked.

"And who is that?" Elle asked in a speculative tone.

"Who's who?" Gavin asked, turning to scan the restaurant.

"The tall man who walked in with David. Is that Percy?"

"Probably," Gwen said as Gavin glanced between Elle and David's companion.

"Did David mention if Percy had any acting experience?" Elle asked.

Gwen laughed. "I…can honestly say that never came up in conversation."

Arthur smirked. "I can imagine how this is going to go. 'Hi, Percy, nice to meet you. Would you like to be in A Christmas Carol?'"

"I wasn't going to spring it on him _that_ quickly!" Elle protested. She paused. "Unless you think that would work."

"Elle," Gwen said, unable to keep from laughing again as Gavin sat back down in his chair. "Really?"

"Really what?" Ambrose asked. He was grinning from ear to ear, so widely that Gwen wondered if his face hurt. "Everyone, this is David-" Impossibly, he seemed to grin even more. "-and Percy. David, you already know Gwen and Arthur. And that's Gavin and Elle."

There was a chorus of hellos and Ambrose sat down, catching holding of David's wrist and tugging him into the chair next to him. Gwen hid a smile behind her water glass at David's expression. She was glad that Ambrose hadn't been stupidly self-sacrificing and had invited David here.

She caught Arthur watching David and Ambrose as well, the smirk he wore when teasing Ambrose nowhere in sight. She pressed her lips firmly together against the glass, resisting the urge to giggle. So even Arthur fell prey to the utter adorableness of his best friend and David.

Arthur glanced her way and she busied herself with smoothing down the napkin she'd placed in her lap instinctively at the start of the meal.

**Arthur**

"Trade me spots," Elle hissed, nudging Gavin. Gavin rolled his eyes, but stood and gestured to his chair with a flourish.

"My lady," he said.

Unaccountably, Gwen's eyes widened at this—not that he was watching her. Arthur looked to Gavin just in time to see the pair trade a quick glance.

"Thank you," Elle said, affecting an accent and taking her seat with all the grace of a queen. The illusion held for a full two seconds before she leaned over the table, her elbow nearly toppling Arthur's water glass, and smiled in a way Arthur had long since learned to fear. "So, Percy, is it?"

The tall man now seated across from her nodded.

Elle tilted her head in consideration. "You're very tall," she said. "How tall are you?"

"Subtle, Elle." Arthur couldn't stop himself from commenting.

Elle glared at him over her shoulder. "Hush." Then she turned back to Percy, once again all smiles. "You were saying?"

Elle repeated the number thoughtfully. "You might show a little ankle, but I think that's acceptable. I'm sure our patron won't mind." Then she turned Gavin, her tone sweet, but dangerous. "Will he?"

"What?" Gavin asked, flustered.

"Will the guy who owns the shelter care if Percy shows a little ankle?"

Arthur glanced back at Percy who was leaning back and engaging David in silent conversation that seemed to consist mostly of 'what is she talking about?' He missed Gavin's reply to Elle, but whatever he said must have satisfied her, because then she was back with all of her attention on Percy. Percy, Arthur noticed, remained an inch or so back from the table.

"You're a teacher, right?" Elle asked.

"I teach gym," Percy said. "Pre-k through sixth."

"So you're not afraid of talking in front of a lot of people." This was clearly not a question.

"I think what Elle here is trying to ask," Gavin started, "is—"

"I think Elle here can talk for herself." Elle talked over his sentence. Arthur winced. She was clearly angry over something. Not wanting to get stuck in the middle, but cut off on the corner, Arthur decided to move to the other end of the table. Elle immediately snagged his vacated seat, continuing her interrogation of Percy.

"What did you do?" he asked, taking the empty seat by Gavin. Gavin shrugged, his eyes not leaving his girlfriend. Arthur clapped his shoulder twice and signaled for the waitress. When she reached the table, he ordered three of the tapas party assortments. Normally, one set was enough to feed four people, but lunch had been a long time ago and Percy looked like he had an appetite, so three it was.

"What did you do that for?" Ambrose asked, grumpily handing the waitress his menu.

"Do what?" Arthur asked. "We had to get food at some point."

"Order for everyone," Ambrose replied. "It was rather rude."

"Rude?" Arthur asked, drawing back. He gestured at the dining area behind him. "Ambrose, in case your David-addled brain—no offense, David—" David waved him off "—has forgotten, this is Mateo's. We always get the set here."

"Yes, but we have new people here today. Maybe they don't like tapas."

"Then why would they—" Arthur stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was not going to be drawn into yet another pointless argument with Ambrose, especially not in front of Gwen. Gwen, who was—Arthur noticed when he opened his eyes—looking far too amused. That was when he realized, _really_ realized what it meant for Gwen and Ambrose to be such good friends. He really didn't want to think about some of the things she must have heard about him. Arthur took a deep breath and looked across the table at David. "Do you like tapas?" he asked.

"Little finger foods, right?" David asked.

"Sort of. They're Spanish and there's all kinds—"

"They're good," Gwen interrupted, smiling across Ambrose. "Especially the ones here. There's one with squid that is fantastic."

"Squid?" David repeated doubtfully.

"You've been here before?" Arthur asked Gwen in surprise. He ignored Ambrose's flashing hands and explanations that were, doubtlessly, extolling Mateo's menu.

Gavin joined the conversation, momentarily looking away from Elle and Percy. "My fault, that," he said. "You and I came here for your birthday last July, didn't we?"

"Yes," Gwen agreed. "Elle and I come here often as well on the live music nights."

"This is my favorite restaurant," Arthur said, feeling rather stupid even as he said. "I've never seen you here."

Gwen met his gaze with an amused smile. Again he felt caught by her. "Thank goodness for Elliot," she said. "We might have never met each other."

"That would have been a tragedy," he replied, but then she made that face again, the one that made him feel like they were dancing together, but he kept leading her in the wrong steps. He looked away, sliding his gaze down to Percy. "Percy," he said, interrupting Elle. She gave him a dirty look, but as it did not make him feel like a stumbling idiot, he ignored it. "What are your thoughts on tapas?"

"Real tapas, or small plates of food tapas?" he asked.

Arthur grinned. "Spanish tapas."

"Sounds good."

Arthur turned back to Ambrose, who had apparently just finished his spiel. "No one minds the order," he said.

"It's the principle of it, Arthur," Ambrose said. "You just assume everything will go according to your plan, not taking even the littlest second to—"

"Christ, Ambrose," Arthur said, realizing Ambrose didn't actually care about the order. "The money is still going to charity. Does it _really matter_ if the money goes toward toys instead of livestock?"

"Yes, it does. We raised that money; we should get some say in where it goes. Julie was advocating for the Jed Foundation. She and I were battling over the last few neutrals when you just had to swoop in—"

"You were giving campaign speeches in the break room," Arthur protested, forgetting his earlier promise to himself to not let Ambrose draw him into an argument. "Julie was leaving buttons in all the mailboxes."

"So we were too passionate? Was that the problem?"

"Passion is a good thing," Arthur said. "Taking over the copy room to print off posters is not." He noticed David lean back and ask Gwen something behind Ambrose's back.

"Julie brought in cupcakes. I had to do something."

"You had to—Ambrose, it's a _charity_, not a presidential election."

"Yeah, but you got more donations this year than ever before, didn't you?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "Wait, did you and Julie—" he stopped speaking when Gwen laughed, clear and bright. She settled her chair back on all four legs and looked guiltily at the table.

"Sorry, it's not you," she said. "Well, it is you, but—" She rolled in her lips, holding back a smile. Arthur traded a bewildered look with Ambrose. At the end of the table, David was chuckling against the side of his hand. "—the two of you—" she took a deep breath, then looked back down to David "—I don't think you have anything to worry about. Gavin tells me that this is just what they do."

Arthur looked at Gavin, feeling absurdly betrayed. Gavin shrugged. "I figured the lady deserved a warning."

"It's all right, Arthur," Gwen said, reaching across the table, touching his hand. "I'm glad Ambrose has such a good friend." Her smile reminded him of too-salty fried rice and his mother's laughter; a knot he'd carried for so long he'd forgotten it loosened in his chest.

"Gwen," he started, certain he should be saying something, but utterly unable to think of any. "Gwen," he said again.

Gwen's eyes widened with what looked like panic. She pulled away, even standing and stepping back from the table. "I—I have to go. Bathroom. Sorry."

Arthur stared, stunned. Elle stood up. "I should go after her," she said. She took two steps from the table, before whirling back and pointing at Percy. "You," she said. "Creepy ghost, yes or no?"

"I don't think—"

"_Yes or no?_" Elle asked again, her voice low and guttural. She was playing someone, but Arthur wasn't sure who.

"Yes," Percy said quickly.

Elle jumped up, one fist punching the air. "Yes! Now Gwen." When she saw the waitress coming over with a tray, she turned to Gavin. "Save us squid thingies."

"I'll guard them with my life."

"You better," she muttered, turning and following where Gwen had fled.

"What did I do?" Arthur asked.

"I don't think it's you," Ambrose said. "Gwen's been acting strange lately."

Gavin stiffened as he reached for the plate of _chopitos_ that Elle and Gwen apparently loved. "Is that so?" He took the plate and protected it in the circle of his arms. Arthur noticed him rubbing at his wrist.

David whispered something to Ambrose, but Ambrose just shook his head and mouthed _Later._ Arthur had the very uncomfortable feeling that he was once again on the outside of some secret, though this one seemed grimmer than the myth of Gwen. "What is going on?" he asked. Gavin, Ambrose, and David all avoided eye contact. Arthur glanced at Percy, but he seemed just as clueless. "I want answers."

"So do I," Gavin said, stealing a olive stick off a nearby plate and pointing it toward Percy. "Can you or can you not play basketball?"

"That's not—" Arthur started, but Ambrose quickly interrupted.

"He's a gym teacher. Of course he can. Er, you can, can't you?"

"I can," Percy confirmed.

"Great," Gavin said. "That's five then. You're still in, aren't you, David?"

He nodded. "I heard our competition is tough."

"They're good," Gavin said. "And they've convinced John to play with them."

"The guy who does self-defense classes?" Ambrose asked.

"Yeah."

"When's the game?" Percy asked.

"Tomorrow," Arthur said, rubbing at his forehead. This was not what he wanted to talk about, but they did need to strategize. "Aden and Will playing?" he asked.

"Finn, Shaw, Aden, Will, and John," Gavin said. "John doesn't play much, but he's solid. Big guy, when he decides to block you, you're blocked."

"Your height," Arthur said, nodding toward Percy "may help with that. Will and Aden are both good players, but better together, and Aden's fast. The best way to stop her is to keep the ball away from her."

"Finn can make a basket from nearly anywhere on the court," David added. "Luckily when I played with Arthur, he was our third."

"Where was I?" Gavin asked.

"Probably off with some girl," Arthur said. It was a low blow, but he really hadn't liked the bit of connection he'd seen between Gavin and Gwen.

"A while back then," Gavin said, evenly. He turned back to Percy. "Shaw isn't too shabby either. A little less creative on the court than Finn, but stronger in strategy. In our favor though is the lovely Ria."

"Ria Edwards?" Arthur asked, surprised. "The commissioner's daughter?"

"Yeah. You know her?"

Arthur shook his head. "Vaguely. What about her?"

Gavin shrugged. "They're both madly in love with her. Constant battle with them."

Elle and Gwen returned to the table. Gavin held out the plate of _chopitos_. "As promised," he said.

"Thank you." Elle gave him a long, soft kiss.

"Not to complain," Gavin said, when she pulled back, "but I was under the impression you were mad at me."

She plucked a piece of squid from the plate. "I was."

"But now?"

She shrugged and glanced back at Gwen. "Everyone's got secrets," she said. "You'll tell me yours when you're ready. Now, move. Gwen's going to sit with me."

"Just can't let me sit in peace, can you?" Gavin said, standing.

"Have to keep you on your toes somehow," Elle countered.

"Don't really need to make an effort for that," Gavin said. He picked up his drink and slid down a seat, making room for Elle and Gwen to sit together.

Arthur was disappointed that Gwen was no longer sitting diagonally from him, but didn't say anything. He tried not to think about Gavin going back to his old ways or the possibility that Gwen was seeing someone already. Instead he focused on the good food and basketball strategy. It didn't work, but it was good enough. Eventually Gwen started engaging in conversations again, though she didn't leave from her of the table, away from him.

After the food had dwindled to about half of a single set and Arthur had paid, sparking another brief argument with Ambrose, Percy checked his phone and cursed. "My meter's running out."

Arthur checked his own phone. "It's nearly 11," he said. "We've been here, what, four and a half hours?"

"Closer to five, I think," Gavin said. "Shall we pack up then?"

Percy held up his keys. "David, your stuff is still in my car. Do you want me to give you and Ambrose a ride?"

"Please," David said.

"I guess we're headed out then," Ambrose said. He pointed around the room. "See you tomorrow?" he asked. Everyone but Elle nodded.

"Try outs," she said. "Spring musical. Not that we really have time for that right now—" she glared at Gavin "—with the Carol to prepare."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Gavin said, holding up her coat for her to put on.

Elle snorted. "Your expectations are really rather too high. Gwen, did you want us to walk with you to your stop?"

"Give us a chance to—"

"I'll take her," Arthur interrupted, not liking Gavin's expression.

"It's all right," Gwen said when Elle glanced her way.

"If you're sure," Elle said, giving Gwen a hug.

"See you tomorrow." Arthur held up one hand as Elle, Gavin, David, Ambrose, and Percy all exited together. He looked to Gwen. "I guess it's just you and me," he said.

"Come on," Gwen said, stepping toward the entry way. "My stop is nearby."

"A bit late for the bus, don't you think?" Arthur pressed a button on his phone. "I'm calling for a driver."

"_Arthur_." Something helpless twitched in her smile.

"_Gwen_," he said back, then frowned. "What is that short for anyway?"

"Gwendolyn."

"_Gwendolyn_," he said, savoring her name. She almost seemed to shiver. "I just want you to be safe. Besides, you'll probably be great friends with the driver anyway."

She laughed. "Fine."

Arthur grinned, happy to have won the point. When Leo picked up and grumbled about not being Arthur's chauffeur, Arthur only had to mention Gwen's name for him to agree to come out, just so long as Arthur understood that this was not setting any sort of precedent. Arthur agreed. When he turned back, Gwen was watching out the window where flurries were beginning to fall.

"He'll be in about ten minutes," he said. "Do you want to wait outside?"

"You don't think it'll be too cold?" she asked.

"I don't mind," he lied. Her grin was worth it.

They stood beneath the awning and watched the flurries chase around the air. When her teeth chattered, Arthur unbuttoned his coat and held it open to her. Cold air immediately whistled up his shirt. "You're cold," he said. "I'm cold. Let's be warm together."

"That's a terrible line," she said in that tone of voice he was growing to hate, but she settled back against him regardless. He wrapped his arms around her and nestling his chin down against her hair.

"There's something about you," he said. He felt her take a deep breath against his arms.

"Maybe it's fate," she said softly, almost too quietly for him to hear.

"I don't believe in fate."

"No," she said, pulling away from him. "Neither do I." She walked out into the flurries and turned her face up into the wind. She was, in more ways than he could count, beautiful—confusing as high school physics had been, but far more worth the effort.

"The car's here," he said, noticing Leo pulling into the parking lot. Leo's arrival prompted a hurried hug and damp eyes Arthur hadn't meant to cause. He started to apologize when they were buckling into the backseat, but then Gwen grabbed his hand, her eyes warm and shining, and he found he couldn't form a single sound.

"Thank you," she said. This time she didn't pull away or panic or slip back into that look of vague disappointment. Instead she closed her eyes and rested her head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur met Leo's eyes in the rearview. Leo raised his brows in question, but Arthur didn't know how to answer. He was afraid to even breathe that he might disturb her. Gwen sighed against his arm; and Arthur closed his eyes. He had no idea what he was doing.


	20. The Favor, Friday

A/n: This chapter was written by Miroslav. And this brings us up to real time (real time posting being what has been occurring over on Dreamwidth). From here on out you can expect only one chapter a day. 'Day' is defined loosely as that space of time after we wake up and before we go back to sleep.

This chapter is also a good place to explain that nearly every named character in this story is from a classic British legend/tale/play/ballad/etc _or_ a representation thereof. You have a pick of two reasons: the Doylist 'well if we're stealing from one we might as well steal from them all' or the Wastonian 'Merlin's magic affected _far_ more people than he'd ever anticipated.' In this case, Finn and his friends are from Robin Hood (primarily the recent BBC version). In other chapters you either have or will meet characters from Romeo and Juliet, Tam Lin, and Quest for Camelot.

Anyway, back to the chapter:

In which Arthur loses a game of basketball, but gains something else.

(Gwen/Arthur, David/Ambrose)

_Friday, December 16, 2011_

Nearly everyone was already at the court when Arthur showed up-he spotted both Percy and John immediately, since they towered over the rest. It was Gwen he looked for first, though he tried not to be obvious about it. Unfortunately, Gwen was nowhere in sight. Arthur tried to ignore the pang of disappointment.

"Arthur!" Finn called, wearing his usual cocky grin. "Ready to lose?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as he peeled off his gloves, stuffed them into his coat pockets, and hung his coat on ones of the posts. "We'll see who leaves with their tails between their legs," he tossed back, and then headed over to where David, Percy, Ambrose, and Gavin were already clustered together by the opposing bleachers.

"Gwen just called. She and Elliot will be here soon," Ambrose said before Arthur could so much as say hello.

"Did I ask?" Arthur said, hearing the defensive note in his voice too late. He frowned at the series of amused looks the group gave him. "And hello to you too, Ambrose. No flag or poster to cheer David on?"

"I was going to do a 'Kick their asses, David!' poster, but David thought that seemed tacky," Ambrose said solemnly as David chuckled. Then he grinned. "Oh! Ria and John's wife are here to cheer everyone on. Her name is Alice. She performs with Elle, apparently, and she brought cookies for everyone."

"Well, that explains the crumbs on your shirt," Arthur said, and resisted the urge to snicker as Ambrose frowned and looked down at his spotless shirt.

"Very funny," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'm telling her to not let you have any."

"I think I'll survive without a cookie," Arthur said, adding a little sarcastically, "And she knows Elle, you said? Not Gwen?" He glanced at the other team even as Gavin laughed and said, "No, she knows Elle. Though you never know, this seems to be a very small city, she might know Gwen too."

There was Ria, sitting on the bleachers; she was either ignoring Finn and Shaw frowning at each other over her or momentarily resigned to their bickering. A woman who had to be Alice was smiling up at John. John was giving her a soppy look in return.

Arthur looked away, feeling unaccountably irritated when his gaze was met with David and Ambrose leaning into each other, clasping hands and looking besotted. He rubbed his hands together; they felt itchy, suddenly, doubtless from the shift from the cold outside to the warmth here.

David, who'd been smiling at Ambrose, glanced past Arthur and grinned. "Gwen!" he called.

Arthur's head whipped around instinctively, his heart skipping a beat. He ignored Ambrose's barely muffled snicker. Everything he'd been planning on saying to Gwen fled his mind at the sight of her.

Gwen smiled at the group, looking amazing in a black coat and a bright purple scarf and cap. "Are we late?" she asked as she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck.

"No," Arthur said, or tried to. It came out as a croak. He cleared his throat. "No, you're right on time," he said, louder. She smiled at him, expression the same warm look she'd worn when she'd wished him good-night and gone into her apartment.

"Was traffic bad?" David asked.

"Yes," Elliot said emphatically as Gwen shook her head and said, "No." She laughed and nudged Elliot lightly in the side. "Elliot's still adjusting to city driving," she explained. "He'll get used to it."

"Is everyone here?" Aden asked, bouncing lightly on her feet. She darted in a quick circle around Will, the man shaking his head and looking amused as she did so, and grinned a shark's smile. "If so, let's get warmed up and get this game started."

Arthur clapped his hands together, grateful for the distraction from Gwen. "Okay, fifteen minutes to warm up, and then let's start the game," he declared, ignoring Ambrose's muttered, "Yes, sir, of course, sir."

Gwen sat next to Ambrose, linking arms with him and murmuring something into his ear that made him laugh.

Gavin took a step towards the court, and then hesitated, glancing back at Gwen and Ambrose. He frowned, as though wanting to say something. "Gwen," he started to say, an odd note in his voice. "Afterwards, can-"

Arthur grabbed a basketball from the box the gym always left out. "Gavin, catch," he said. It wasn't until Gavin caught the ball and grunted a little that Arthur realized he'd thrown it a little too forcefully. He winced a little, torn between apologizing and pretending it had been a slip of his arm.

Gavin stared at the ball for a second, and then back up at Arthur. His expression was a little baffled. After a moment, Gavin narrowed his eyes and shrugged. "Thanks," he said without inflection, beginning to dribble the ball back and forth for a few seconds before passing it to Percy. "Percy, remember, law of God says you're not allowed to be injured today, so watch yourself."

"The law of God?" Percy repeated with a puzzled frown, passing the ball back.

"Elle," Gavin said, and Percy grinned.

When Arthur glanced back at Ambrose and Gwen, both were giving him odd looks he couldn't read. Arthur looked away, and busied himself with stretching. Stretching seemed like a great thing to do right now.

Two quarters into the game and tied, Arthur had to admit they were pretty evenly matched. Elliot turned out to be almost as quick on his feet as Aden, David was sticking to Will like glue and not letting him anywhere near Aden, and with Percy and John going toe to toe and canceling each other out, that left the game really down to Gavin and Arthur versus Finn and Shaw.

At least Gavin hadn't let the incident with the ball affect his game- he continued to throw the ball to Arthur when Arthur was open. The only thing that seemed affected was that Gavin's usual trash-talk hadn't made an appearance today.

Arthur faked left and then went right as Shaw fell for the feint. He darted past the other man, dribbling the ball quickly down the court. Finn came at him then, his eyes narrowed with concentration. Arthur just grinned at him and feinted like he was going to go low and past him.

When Finn didn't fall for it, going so far to smirk and say, "Nice try," Arthur took a quick step back and simply threw the ball. The ball sailed over Finn's head as he leaped for it, his fingertips just skimming its underside, and then landed in Gavin's waiting hands.

Gavin dribbled once, twice, then shot.

"Go, Gavin!" Ambrose cheered as the ball went in.

"Nice shot," Arthur said, but Gavin only shrugged and turned away from him, clapping Elliot on the shoulder. Arthur inwardly winced. He'd have to man up after the game, actually talk to Gavin about what was going on. Or at least apologize for trying to concuss him with that basketball.

"Okay, end of the quarter!" Gwen called, holding up the stopwatch.

Arthur stopped where he'd been jogging back up the court. He rested his hands briefly on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Sweat stung his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Gwen asked.

He blinked up at her, surprised that she'd come onto the court. She smiled back, a little tentative. "I'm fine," he said, straightening and trying to look as though he hadn't just been gulping for air.

Gwen wore an unconvinced expression, one that was somehow more familiar and steadying than her cautious look. "You're going to get dehydrated if you don't drink something," she said, offering him a water bottle.

"Thanks," he said, twisting the cap off and taking a quick sip to ease the dryness of his throat. Then he took another bigger swallow, wincing as more sweat stung his eyes.

"Here," Gwen said again. When he lowered the bottle, she was offering him a small piece of fabric. "It's a handkerchief," she explained, mouth twisting into a self-conscious smile that didn't suit her at all.

"Thanks," he said again, accepting it.

Their fingers brushed and once again he felt that tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with exercise and everything to do with the woman standing in front of him. He looked at the handkerchief. It was white with a few purple flowers and the initials GS stitched in one corner. It also looked handmade.

"It's nice. I don't want to ruin it," he objected, trying to push it back into her hands.

Gwen laughed, self-consciousness replaced by amusement. "Sweat's ones of the things handkerchiefs are made for," she told him, pressing the handkerchief to his forehead. She was standing close to him, near enough that he could smell the perfume she had on, a light, airy scent that reminded him of spring.

His eyes started to close, and he forced them to stay open. "If you say so," he said.

"You'll never get that handkerchief back, Gwen," Ambrose called from the bleachers. "Arthur never returns anything."

Arthur let out an exasperated breath. "I lost a book of his once in high school and he's never let me live it down," he told Gwen. "Never mind that he's lost so many things of mine that I've given up counting."

Gwen's hand was still on his forehead, her fingers cool where they continued to hold the handkerchief. This close, he could see the way her lashes fluttered and the slight wrinkle of her nose as she laughed. "I don't let Ambrose borrow my things," she said, stepping back. "Well, nothing important, at least."

Arthur pressed the handkerchief gingerly to his forehead, dabbing at where he could feel sweat collecting and feeling vaguely ridiculous.

"Ria!" Finn said, loudly enough that both Arthur and Gwen jumped. "Ria, my lady love," he continued, affecting a plaintive, old-fashioned accent, "why don't _you_ give me a token of your esteem? A lady must give her beloved some sort of favor-"

_Favor. _The last word rang through Arthur's head like a bell. He closed his eyes, a wave of dizziness washing over him. It was loud all around him, a roar in his ears like the bleachers had filled with people coming to watch the-

"Arthur?" Gwen's voice was warm with concern.

He opened his eyes and there she was, close enough to touch, her worried smile creasing her forehead and darkening her eyes. "Gwen," he breathed, feeling unaccountably relieved. He let the bottle and the handkerchief fall, took Gwen by the elbows instead, tugged her closer as her eyes widened.

Arthur kissed her. Her lips were dry beneath his, and motionless. After a second though, Gwen made a little sound in the back of her throat and kissed him back. He clutched at her arms, dizzy with some realization he couldn't put a name to. "Gwen," he murmured against her lips, his mouth savoring her name like a long anticipated taste. "Gwen, Guine-"

Someone's wolf-whistle split the air, and Arthur came back to himself, releasing Gwen and jerking backwards. They started at each other, both breathing hard. Gwen looked a little stricken.

Arthur's face burned. What had he just done? He didn't kiss women he'd known for less than a week! "Gwen," he said, his voice sticking in his throat. "I'm sorry, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," Gwen said breathlessly, but she was searching his face like she had during their first meeting. "What were you about to call me?"

"I was saying Gwendol-" Arthur said, and then stopped, frowning, because that hadn't been the name that had leapt to his lips as he'd kissed her. "I have no idea," he said, baffled.

"I," Gwen said, and took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to go sit back in the bleachers."

"Gwen," he said, but she was already backing away. He frowned after her, then realized his shoes felt damp. He looked down, realizing that the water bottle had spilled, the handkerchief and his shoes soaked.

When the game was over, 14 to 11, with Finn making the last-minute winning shot as usual, much to Arthur's exasperation and Shaw's apparent annoyance. "Show off," he thought he heard Shaw mutter as Finn lifted his arms above his head and grinned at Ria.

Arthur couldn't really bring himself to care too much about the loss, though, not when he was already turning towards the bleachers. He almost tripped over his sneakers because sometime between the start of the final quarter and now, Gwen had vanished.

"Gwen left a minute ago. Said she was going to meet Elliot at the car," Ambrose said, frowning and watching Arthur closely as Arthur kept his expression neutral. Apparently he failed at that, because Ambrose's frown deepened. "Arthur-"

"A word?" Gavin said. He had his arms folded against his chest.

"Uh," Arthur said, looking to Ambrose for help.

Ambrose was already retreating, the coward, grabbing David's hand and saying something about seeing them at the party. David offered both Gavin and Arthur a puzzled good-bye and followed.

"Good game," Arthur heard Percy say.

"Yeah, too bad your team fell apart in the third quarter," Aden said with a quick laugh.

"Outside?" Gavin said, and Arthur sighed. Well, might as well get this unpleasant conversation over with. He followed Gavin into the cold twilight. Gavin was silent for a moment, and then huffed out a breath. "Okay," Gavin said, turning to face him. "Explain what I've done to offend you, because I've been wracking my brain and coming up with nothing."

Arthur blinked. Apparently he stared for a bit too long because Gavin's expression soured.

"Don't play innocent. You're making digs at my past and then ignoring me all through the second half. We could've won if you hadn't seemed intent on pretending I didn't exist on the court!"

"I," Arthur said, wincing. "Look, I just- you're dating Elle."

Now it was Gavin's turn to stare. "Yes, and?"

"And you're all over Gwen! And trying to get her alone!" That hadn't been what Arthur meant to say, but the words rang through the air.

Gavin squinted at him. "This is about _Gwen_?" he asked, a little disbelieving. "What, do you think she and I are-" Gavin laughed, but it was humorless. "God, just because I liked one-night stands back in the day doesn't mean I'm going to cheat on Elle. And Gwen would never break up a relationship! What do you take us for?"

"Sorry," Arthur said. Frustration and confusion made him run a hand through his hair and begin to pace, back and forth in front of Gavin. "I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Look," Gavin said, and a bit of his good-natured humor had returned to his voice, "I realize both Gwen and I are irresistible, don't think I didn't notice that kiss you planted on her, but-"

"I don't know why I did that!" Arthur snapped. Apparently his bewilderment was obvious, because Gavin frowned. "I just- I don't kiss strangers! Not someone I've just met, no matter how pretty she is, but I looked at her and for a second it was like I'd lost her and finally found her again-"

"Have you been having dreams?" Gavin interrupted.

Arthur blinked, thrown. "Dreams?" he said, staring at Gavin.

Gavin grimaced. "No, never mind, stupid question," he said hastily. He rubbed at his chin and sighed. "Arthur, I don't know what to tell you other than Gwen and I are just friends. I, well, Elle is—besides, I am pretty sure I saw Gwen kissing you back. If you ask me-"

"No one did," Arthur said, having regained his footing enough to sound dry. "And I'll handle Gwen myself." He hesitated. "Just- sorry if I was a bit of an ass."

Gavin snorted. "Arthur, you're always a bit of an ass," he informed him, and then clapped him on the shoulder. "Give Gwen a couple days and then ask her out. She likes this particular bistro. I'll get Elle to text you the name of it."

"Who says I'm asking Gwen out?" Arthur protested.

Gavin just shook his head and walked back into the gym, calling, "Alice, I can't wait to see you in the show. I hear you're going to be singing?"

"I am _not_ singing!" Alice said in apparent exasperation. "You can tell Elle I said so!"

Arthur stood outside for a moment, shivering in the cool night air. He made a face to himself. He turned to go back inside and grab his coat when Elliot came out, stumbling to a stop at the sight of him.

They studied each other for a moment, then Elliot said evenly, "You know, I'm sort of regretting taking you up on your offer to help me unpack."

Arthur felt his face warm. So Elliot had either seen the kiss or heard about it from someone else. "Gwen and I are would have met eventually," he said, and then raised a hand when Elliot opened his mouth. "That wasn't an argument. Just…apologize to her for me? I was out of line."

Elliot eyed him for a moment, then snorted. "You were," he agreed, then squared his shoulders. "Look, Gwen's my best friend, I've looked after her since kindergarten. I know I don't have a say in her relationships but if you jerk her around or try another stunt like that before you get to know her, I _will_ do something about it."

Despite the threat, Arthur felt his lips twitch into a smile. Still, first Gavin, now Elliot. And he was certain Ambrose was going to be sending him about twelve texts once he got home, all about Gwen. He nodded and met Elliot's gaze. "Understood," he said.

Arthur went back inside, wincing at the warmth of the gym flooded feeling back into his fingers and cheeks, made his skin itch. He reached for his coat, rummaging in the pockets for his gloves. Instead, his fingertips touched a different fabric. He blinked and pulled it out.

It was Gwen's handkerchief, still a little damp from the water spill. He held it in his hands for a moment, staring at the intricate stitches that made up the GS. "Gwendolyn Smith," he found himself saying under his breath, and the name felt…right, but not, all at the same time.

He shook his head and tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket, ignoring the itch in his fingers to raise the handkerchief to his nose and see if Gwen's scent lingered. For one thing, that was just a little bit creepy. For another, the water had probably rid the handkerchief of all traces of Gwen.

"So," someone said, and Arthur quickly tucked the handkerchief back into his coat pocket and turned to face Finn, who was grinning at him. "Didn't know you had a girlfriend, Arthur. You should've introduced us!"

"She's not my girlfriend," Arthur said automatically.

Finn laughed. "What, was that kiss your way of asking her out?" He made a mock-thoughtful face. "You'll have to tell me if it works. Maybe I should try that with Ria-"

"Enough," Shaw said with a roll of his eyes. "Quit being a pest."

"I'm not being a pest," Finn argued. "I was-"

"Asking questions that were none of your business?" Shaw asked, talking over him. "Of course you were, because boundaries are a foreign concept to you-"

"Oh, this coming from the guy who-"

"Walk me out?" Ria asked, appearing suddenly at Arthur's side. She shot him a conspiratorial smile. "I think those two might be a while."

Arthur found himself chuckling. "You're probably right," he agreed, putting on his coat and then helping Ria with hers. Even as they left, Finn and Shaw were still arguing, both a little red-faced. "And people say Ambrose and I are bad," Arthur said, shaking his head.

Ria laughed, wrapping her arms around herself. "They're both just…opinionated," she said, apparently striving for diplomacy. She laughed again at Arthur's raised eyebrow and then held up a hand, calling out, "Taxi!"

"You're getting a taxi?" Arthur frowned. In this neighborhood, getting a taxi to actually stop would take at least a half-hour or so. "I can drive you home," he offered. "I have a town car that's due to come around in…" He checked his watch. "…about five minutes."

"I don't want to inconvenience you," Ria protested, but Arthur shook his head. He liked Ria; she also had to suffer through their fathers' events while obviously wishing to be with their friends far, far away from the businessmen schmoozing their way through the dances and dinners. Though he really didn't understand her taste in men.

"I insist," he said. "Otherwise you'll be here for an hour trying to get a taxi."

Ria smiled. "Thank you." She looked up at him, a mischief light creeping into her face. "So, if you _do_ want to talk about Gwen, I'm all ears," she told him, and then laughed at his grimace. "Or we can talk about something else- whatever you prefer."

Arthur let out a slow breath, considering. Unlike everyone else in his life, apparently, Ria didn't seem to know Gwen. It might be nice to talk to a neutral party. He tried to figure out how to word things so he didn't seem like a complete freak. After a moment, he shrugged and gave up. "Well, the thing is, I just met Gwen on Sunday," he said.

"Oh, Arthur," Ria said, laughing. It wasn't a mean sound, though, mostly startled. She smiled at him. "I take it she's someone special?"

"Yes," Arthur said with a sort of bone-deep certainty. "She is."

Ria linked her arms in his. "Tell me everything you know about her," she commanded, and Arthur did.


	21. The Proposal, Saturday

A/N: This section was written by LilyAyl.

In which Arthur decides to find answers.

_Saturday, December 17 2011_

_Arthur stared down the line of his sword. The day with all its distractions, the tournament, Gwen, his father's expectations, they all faded, leaving only him, the sword, and the man crouched across from him. The man's torso twitched, and Arthur raised his shield, blocking the blow, and then struck low and fast with his dull blade. The man fell to his knees. Arthur stepped in, pressing his advantage, and—_

Arthur awoke, breathing so hard his chest ached. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and blinked at the large numbers on it. Four am. He'd only managed about forty-five minutes of sleep from his last dream. He fell back on his pillow, closing his eyes. Unlike a normal dream that fled within the seconds after waking, this one lingered, every detail sharp and strong. He could taste sweat on his lips, could hear the sound of his sword and heavy breaths of the other man.

Arthur breathed in and out deeply. He and Vivian had done couples yoga together once—her idea. Merlin had teased him for weeks afterward when he found out. His heartbeat calmed. Arthur twisted over to put his phone back on his nightstand, when he realized he had just called Ambrose 'Merlin.' He imagined Ambrose in a tall cap and robes acting all wise and important, and then started to laugh at the absurd image. If anything would be a cure for these strange nightmares, it was that. Ambrose as Merlin, as if that would ever—Arthur stopped. The candle. That damned candle at Ambrose's birthday.

Instead of putting his phone down, Arthur leveraged himself against the nightstand and sat up. The floor was cool against his bare feet. Rubbing at his neck with one hand, Arthur called Ambrose. He didn't care what time it was in the morning. He wanted answers.

"I am going to kill you," Ambrose said, his voice a low croak.

"You did magic," Arthur said. "At your birthday."

"Oh, god."

"Dreams, Ambrose. Dreams where I'm—"

"King Arthur," Ambrose interrupted.

"So you do know about this."

"You're not alone. Me, David—"

"Gavin," Arthur added, remembering his odd question after the game the day before.

He could hear the frown in Ambrose's voice. "Gavin, too?"

"All right, we need to figure out what this is. What time does the library open?"

"Nine, I think. Wh—No. No, Arthur. I am spending my day with David. I am _not_ doing research."

"Bring David," Arthur said. "I'll call Gavin." He glanced at his still-dark window. "In a couple hours. Bring your laptop. Nine AM. Library. Meet in the lobby by that one tree statue." He hung up before Ambrose could protest. Arthur looked down at his phone, wondering if he should attempt sleep again. He didn't want another dream. He stood up, tossing his phone on his bed as he started searching for a shirt. He was going for a run.

*-&EL&-*

Arthur reached the library in time to watch one of the security guards unlock the doors. He'd brought his laptop and a notebook in which he'd started to write out the details of his dreams before he'd decided he remembered them well enough to not. He sat on the bench next to the tree statue and checked his phone. It was five after nine; Ambrose was late. Arthur smirked and called him.

"What?" Ambrose asked, his voice sharp with impatience.

"You're late." Arthur leaned back against the wall, pillowing one hand behind his head.

"It's barely five after."

"Precisely. As you have often told me, five minutes is late."

"I hate you."

"So you'll be here soon?"

"Good-_bye_, Arthur." Ambrose hung up.

Arthur switched his phone to vibrate and then slipped it back into his coat pocket. He wasn't waiting long when Gavin and Elle showed up. Elle was yawning and looking as though she'd prefer to still be in bed, but Gavin looked intent.

"So dreams?" Gavin said when he reached the bench. Elle sat beside Arthur, pulling her feet up onto the edge and resting her forehead against her knees.

"Yeah. You too."

Gavin nodded. "Did you call Gwen?"

"Not really the impression I want to make, you know?"

Elle snorted. "I'll call her."

"Wait, you knew?" Gavin asked.

Elle looked up at him, unimpressed. "I am Gwen's best friend," she said. "I've known since before Ambrose's party."

"You never said anything."

"Best friend," Elle repeated, her words muffled as she put her forehead back to her knees. "I can keep secrets."

Gavin smiled. "Well at least you're a matched pair."

"Oh yes, we both have crazy dreams. That's a great foundation for a relationship," Arthur said.

"So you want a relationship with her?"

"What are we talking about?" Ambrose asked, walking up with David.

Gavin grinned. "Arthur wants a relationship with fair Gwen."

"Arthur and Gwen sitting in a tree," Ambrose started to sing.

"Do you _want _to start digitizing all our old files?"

"That's blackmail."

"Stop singing."

"So what are we doing here anyway?" Elle asked.

"Research," Arthur said with more confidence than he felt. "I want to know what is happening and why."

"So do we wait for Gwen or get started?" Gavin asked.

"Let's get started," Arthur said. "Ambrose. You have this place memorized. Arthurian mythology and shared dream-memories. Where do we go?"

"I do not have this place memorized," Ambrose protested. He turned to David and repeated in a softer voice. "I don't."

"Ambrose." Arthur rolled his eyes.

Ambrose glared back at him. "Upstairs," he said, grudgingly. "New age stuff and psychology on the third floor. Folklore's on the seventh. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you?"

Arthur grinned. "You and David get the dream books. Rest of us will meet you on the seventh. Elle, can you text Gwen?"

Elle held up her phone. "Already done."

"Fantastic," Arthur said. "Let's get started."

Twenty minutes later, Arthur was regretting his early morning enthusiasm. The library had an entire aisle filled, both sides, with books on King Arthur and Camelot. He, Gavin, and Elle had staked out the aisle. Elle was on one end, reading through a dramatic adaptation, and Gavin was on the other, one arm resting on a pulled-up knee, and flipping through a German translation. Arthur sat in the middle with a stack of books and was looking through the T.H. White version. If Ambrose ever tried turning him into a squirrel, he decided after reading through a few paragraphs, Arthur would send singing telegrams to all of his classes his first full week of teaching.

"Move your legs." Ambrose kicked at Gavin's ankle. He and David both carried a small stack of books.

"Look who we found on the way up." David said, walking into the aisle. He nodded behind himself to where Gwen stood, biting her lip and playing with her purse strap.

"Hey."

"Gwen." Arthur stood up. "You came. Look, about yesterday—"

"Arthur," she interrupted. "It's all right. Unexpected and a little early, but—" she blushed "—not unwelcome."

Gavin whistled. "Well, Arthur, I think you just might have a chance."

"Hush," Gwen said, kicking him. "So, how are we doing this?" She walked down the aisle, sitting across from Elle.

"Pick a book," Arthur said, waving at the shelves and sitting back down. "Don't really have much more of a plan than that. Ambrose will make sure we're not disturbed."

"Ambrose will do what now?" Ambrose asked, dropping his books across from Arthur.

"You can do magic, can't you?" Arthur asked. "So magic us up, make sure no one listens in or bothers us."

"I can't just wave my hand and make things happen," Ambrose protested. "Lighting candles, turning lights off and on, and moving things around—that's as far as I've gotten."

"Can I see?" Gwen asked.

"He showed me the moving things around one last night," David said slyly. "I was impressed."

Ambrose reddened.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "God save me from lovebirds. Ambrose, please show Gwen your magic. I would also be interested in seeing it. Then, please—" he waggled his fingers "—keep us from being disturbed."

Ambrose gave him a dirty look, but then muttered something under his breath, causing his pile of books to rise up in the air and neatly stack themselves beside him.

"Well," Gavin said, breaking the silence. "If we'd any doubts."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gwen asked.

Ambrose shrugged. "You seemed stressed. I didn't want to bother you."

"This is _why_ I was stressed," Gwen said. "Until Gavin, I thought I was the only one."

"I thought the same until David," Ambrose said. They shared a companionable smile. Then Ambrose, switching into science mode, asked, "When did you start dreaming?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Arthur asked, waggling his fingers.

"When did this—" Ambrose mimicked the gesture impatiently "—become the code for 'Ambrose do magic'?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Since now, I guess?"

"Well stop it," Ambrose said, standing up. "Uh, Gwen—" he scratched at the back of his neck "—Harry Potter spells work best. Um, do you remember any that might…?"

Gwen pursed her lips. "There's the one Harry learns from the potions book," she said. "Muffli-something."

"Right. Good. And the 'don't bother' bit?"

Gwen tilted her head in thought, but then shook it apologetically. "I can't think of anything."

"So I have to make something up," Ambrose said. "Perfect. Thank goodness for high school Latin." He closed his eyes and spread his fingers out before him. "_Muffliato. Dissimulo._" A haze spread from his outstretched hand like heat in summer. It covered the aisle and then dissipated. Arthur felt itchy at a level deeper than he could scratch. "Right," Ambrose said, sitting back down. He looked familiarly pale.

"You did magic at my father's Christmas party," Arthur accused. Then, realizing, added, "The lights and the candles—that was you?"

"It was an accident," Ambrose said. "Can we please get back on topic? The dreams. Are we all having them?"

Elle raised her hand. "I'm not."

"Probably just a matter of time," Arthur said. "I just started yesterday."

"Maybe Gwen should try giving her something," Ambrose suggested. He then explained the connection between his and David's dreams. Gavin added something about a toy necklace, and Arthur remembered the handkerchief.

"That's just coincidence," Gwen protested.

"Well," Arthur said. "Worth a try, isn't it?"

Gwen sighed and dug through her purse. "Here, Elle," she said. "Have this chapstick."

"Thanks," Elle said taking it. Arthur and the rest watched her expectantly.

"Anything?" Gavin asked.

Elle looked around as though waiting for something like an anvil to fall upon her. "Nope," she declared after a moment. "Though thanks for the chapstick, Gwen. I lost mine yesterday."

She popped off the cap and ran it over her lips.

"You're welcome," Gwen said. "Sorry it didn't work."

"That's all right," Elle said. "I don't have time for dreams anyway. The Carol is still a mess after all. I'll just stick around for moral support. This is all like past lives, right?"

"I guess?" Arthur said.

Gwen shook her head. "But how? Queen Guinevere never really existed. She was made up."

"That's what I was going to say," Arthur said without meaning to. "At the game yesterday. Guinevere, not Gwendolyn."

"I thought that might have been the case. And you're King Arthur, of course." Her cheeks were dark with a blush.

"Arthur and Guinevere," Ambrose said. "How _romantic_."

Arthur glared. "Digitizing," he warned. "With the old scanner, not the new one."

Ambrose held up his hands in surrender. "Just making an observation."

"But they aren't, are they?" Gavin asked, brandishing his book. "In this Guinevere's great love is Lancelot."

"And I suppose you're Lancelot," Arthur said, irritated.

"No," David said. "That'd be me."

Arthur felt like a huge stone just ripped through his stomach. "What?" he asked, barely registering Ambrose asking the same. He tried to imagine David and Gwen together—kissing, holding hands—and wanted to be sick.

"I dreamed of Lainie," David said, looking uncomfortable. "She called me Lancelot. I think I called her Elaine."

"The Lady Elaine," Elle said. She hummed a couple bars of some song. "She was always the runner-up for Lancelot's love."

"Fantastic," Ambrose said. "Just great. Where does that put me then?"

Gwen reached over, touching Ambrose on the wrist. "You aren't Merlin," she said. "David isn't Lancelot. Even if they are memories, that's who we were, not who we are."

"What about you and Arthur then?" Ambrose asked.

"Hey," Arthur protested. "I liked her before I remembered anything."

Gwen's lips curled into a satisfied and happy smile. "You like me?" she asked.

"More than that," Gavin said. "He wants a relationship with you. After just a week too." He tsked.

"Is that true?" Gwen asked. Her stare speared Arthur to the shelves.

"Yes," he said.

Her smile broadened. "Let's talk about this later," she said. "Back to research. So, Ambrose is Merlin, David is Lancelot. Gavin, you are?"

"Gawain. Also, according to Wikipedia, called Gwaine or, interestingly, Gavin. Have you noticed that pattern with our names? Even David. Lancelot of the Lake, David Lake."

"Mine too," Ambrose said. When Arthur looked at him, he rolled his eyes. "You weren't the first to think of doing research, Arthur. One of Merlin's many names is Emrys and there are two versions of Emrys, one of which is Emrys Ambrosius." He opened up his laptop and started typing. "Here, I'll find the site I was on."

"Do you think Percy could be Percival?" David asked. The cover of his book read _Parzival_.

"No," Elle said before anyone else could answer. "No memories for Percy until after The Carol. I've seen how distracted you lot got."

"He doesn't even have any lines," Arthur said.

"No small parts," she quipped. She tossed one book toward a space at her feet. "That one's useless. Oh, but this looks interesting." She held up the book so that everyone could see the title. _Gawain_. "Well, Gavin, shall we find out your destiny?"

"It's not destiny," Gavin, David, and Ambrose protested at once.

"Besides," Gavin added. "Everyone already knows about Gawain anyway."

"Oh, yes," Ambrose said. "_Gawain and the Green Knight_. Fantastic bit of gay literature."

"Did we read the same book?" Arthur asked.

"He and the Green Knight make out." Ambrose started typing at his computer. "Here. Bertilak tells Gawain he must give back anything Bertilak's wife gives him. This leads to kissing. That aside, did you not pay attention to how Bertilak and the Green Knight was described? Very sensual." Ambrose began to read aloud:

_Gawain felt that fortress had a fine lord:_

_a man in his prime, massively made;_

_his beard all beaver-brown, glossy and broad;_

_stern, stalwart in stance on his sturdy thighs,_

_his face bold as fire, a fair-spoken man -_

_who certainly seemed well-suited, he judged,_

_to rule there as master of excellent men._

"That's well and good," Gavin said. "But I'm not about to leave Elle for a green knight. So, can we set that aside perhaps and focus on something else? Like, say, Elle's role in this weird world?"

"Well," Gwen said, closing a thick book. "There are a _lot_ of Elaines."

"I don't know if I feel like an Elaine," Elle said. "Besides, who I am doesn't matter. What matters is figuring out why this is happening to you guys." She shifted to her knees and reached over for one of the new age books beside Ambrose. She braced herself against a book as she leaned forward further and fell to her stomach.

"You okay?" David asked. He passed her a couple books while she pushed back onto her knees.

"I'm fine." She took the books and scooted back to where she'd been sitting.

"Oh, this should be interesting," Ambrose said. "_The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle_."

"We're off the Gawain topic," Arthur said. "Elle has a point. Knowing the legends is only going to get us so far. Why is this happening?" He closed the book he'd been trying to read, even after Gwen's insistence that they weren't their past, he hadn't been able to get the image of her and David out of his head.

"Maybe we just live with it," Gwen said, closing her own book.

"But why us?" David asked.

"And why now?" Gavin added.

Arthur eyed Ambrose across the aisle. "I bet it was Merlin's fault," he said.

"Of course," Ambrose said, rolling his eyes. "Blame the sorcerer."

"He has a point," Gwen said. "In what I read, Merlin said that one day England would need Arthur again. There's a whole myth around the sleeping king."

"Not exactly England," Ambrose said.

"Hence, you screwed something up."

"Not that it matters," David said, "since that doesn't answer what we do next."

Gavin broke the silence. "As entertaining as this reflection on our inability to do anything with what's happening with us, do you mind if we go back to figuring out who people are? I enjoyed that more. Gwen, you said there are many Elaines?"

Gwen nodded, re-opening her book. "Elaine of Corbenic, mother of Galahad, by Lancelot. Um, Elaine, the Lady of Shallot, who died of unrequited love for, um—" she looked up nervously at David "—Lancelot."

"Are there any options that don't match my girlfriend with David? Wait, Ambrose, what did you say a moment ago before Arthur switched topics?"

"_The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle_?" Ambrose asked.

"Yes," Gavin said. "That. Ragnelle. Elle. Fits, don't you think?"

Elle laughed. "You think I'm your wife?" she asked.

"I hope so," Gavin said.

Elle stopped mid-laugh. "You're serious."

Arthur looked from one end of the aisle to the other, from Gavin's chagrined, but intent stare to Elle's pale surprise.

"You don't think it's a good idea?" Gavin asked.

"For Gawain and Ragnelle, or us?"

"Us."

"Did he just propose?" Ambrose asked, gesturing between the two.

Silence, then Gavin said, "Yes. I want you to be my Ragnelle."

"I don't suppose," Ambrose said, "this would be the time to mention how hideous Ragnelle was…"

Arthur kicked Ambrose while Gwen told him to "hush."

A smile broke through Elle's shock. She stood up, stepped over Gwen's legs, and ran to Gavin. She tripped over David, but Gavin was ready. He caught her. "Is that a yes, then?" he asked.

Elle laughed. "Yes." She reached up, catching Gavin in a kiss.

"Congratulations," Gwen said, but the happy pair barely paid her any attention.

"What do you say we call this a day?" David asked. He was already stacking up their books. "I doubt we'll get much more done."

"Yeah," Arthur agreed. "Not really sure what we're looking for anyway." He stacked up his own books, taking Gwen's as well. "I'm glad we did this though."

"Yes," Gwen said, handing him Elle's discarded books. "It is good to know we're not alone." She smiled.

"Come on," Arthur said. "Let's take these over to be re-shelved." Arthur didn't have all the answers he had hoped to find, but he no longer felt as strong a need to find any. They'd figure it out as it came.


	22. The Grab Bag, Sunday

A/N: This section was written by Miroslav. Elliot's remembered dialogue is from "The Castle of Fryien."

A/N2: Thanks to xZee23x for the awesome review on the last chapter. Thanks also to CeffylDrwg, Crystal1998, and primesgirl4. Tis always good to know that we're not the only one's enjoying this.

In which the entire group celebrates an early Christmas.

_Sunday, December 18, 2011_

Elliot hesitated just outside the door, frowning. Maybe he should just go back to his apartment. He was certain there was a box or two he hadn't unpacked yet. That might be better than entering a house filled with mostly strangers, most of whom seemed to know him from another life. Gavin had probably invited him and Percy on a whim, anyways; he wouldn't mind if Elliot didn't show.

His head hurt a little from dreams of places he had never traveled, the feel of a smith's hammer in his hand, the weight of a sword in his hand as he fought faceless enemies.

How was it, he thought a trifle sourly, that only yesterday morning his life had been _normal_? Normal, that was, until Gwen had showed up at his apartment, most of the color gone from her face, and said that she needed to talk to him.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

"Remember how Arthur and I know so many of the same people?" Gwen asked. She was standing in front of him, her arms folded against her chest, a look of determination on her face.

"Yeah, that was a little weird," Elliot said, leaning back on the couch and nodding. "I mean, I thought this city was supposed to be huge, but here you are, knowing most of his-"

"It wasn't a coincidence," Gwen interrupted him. When he blinked at her, she looked faintly apologetic but continued, "Since the Sunday after Thanksgiving I've been having…dreams. Dreams that turn out to be memories of a past life. I think maybe we were all drawn to each other somehow. Maybe we are in every life. I don't know. We're still figuring things out, to be honest."

Elliot started to laugh, certain that Gwen was joking - she'd never believed in any of that hocus-pocus stuff before - but her earnest expression trapped the laughter in his throat. "Past lives," he said. "As in, reincarnation, fate, all that stuff?"

"Elliot, I knew Arthur before I met him," Gwen said hoarsely. She met his gaze, her eyes shining wetly. She was trying not to cry, he realized, and instinctively moved forward, jumping to his feet and wrapping his arms around her. She pressed her hot face into his neck, took in a shuddering breath. "I know it sounds crazy," she said, a little muffled, "but we're all experiencing it- me, Arthur, Ambrose, David, Gavin…."

"Okay, Gwen, it's okay, I'm listening," Elliot said, holding onto her and feeling useless. Anyone else he would have written off as a raving lunatic, but this was _Gwen_. Smart, sensible Gwen who had more common sense in her pinkie finger than Elliot did in his whole body.

"No, it's not," she said. "If you don't believe me, how will I convince my dad I'm not having a breakdown?"

"You'll figure out a way to tell him," Elliot said. "You're the smartest person I know. Besides, you're the center of your dad's universe. He'll believe you in the end, no matter what."

"Thanks," Gwen said, and took another deep breath. After a moment she lifted her head and offered him a shaky smile. "Thanks," she said again and hugged him.

"We Smiths have to stick together," he reminded her with a laugh.

Her expression softened. "It's more than that, Elliot," she said, pressing her hand to his cheek. The warm metal of her ring pressed lightly into his skin as she kissed his free cheek and continued, "You're family. You're the brother I never had. Even when you vanished off to exotic places, you've tried to be there for me for the important things."

_So you won't be mad when I tell you I pulled the protective older brother act on Arthur after the basketball game? _Elliot started to ask, but the words caught in his throat, and instead what came out was, "I meant to get in touch. It just never seemed like the right moment." He blinked, puzzled. That hadn't been what he'd meant to say. And it hadn't been something he'd say either- he'd kept in touch over years, mostly, through email when there was a place with an internet connection and the occasional phone call when he could afford to call home.

Gwen was watching him with widened eyes. "Oh, no," she whispered, taking a step back and clapping her hand to her lips. "Oh, Ely- oh, Elliot, I'm sorry! I really didn't remember! I swear! I wouldn't have told you about this if I had!"

"Remember what?" Elliot said, frowning. "I just meant that I-" He stopped, shaking his head. He'd been about to say something, but it'd slipped away. "Look, Gwen, that all sounds a little weird, but as far as I know, insanity isn't catching. If you and the others are experiencing the same memories, I guess that means…Gwen, why are you looking at me like that?"

Gwen still had her hand over her mouth, but the half-giggle, half-sound of dismay had escaped her nonetheless. "I'm really sorry," she said, her expression struggling between consternation and amusement. "I just- I didn't know you were _Elyan_."

"Elyan?" Elliot said blankly, even as recognition shuddered through him like an ice-cube sliding down his spine. He shuddered a little, shook his head. "Who's Elyan?"

Gwen took a deep breath. "Guinevere's brother."

Present

"Elliot?" a deep voice rumbled behind him.

Elliot turned and looked up. And then up some more, because it was Percy from the basketball game. Elliot felt a little relieved at the sight of him. As far as he knew, Percy hadn't been told about this reincarnation weirdness, and was as new to the group as he was.

"Hey," he said, grinning. He jerked his head towards the door. "Did you want to knock, or should I?"

Percy shrugged. "Could use the doorbell," he suggested with a slight smile on his lips.

"Right, the doorbell. Good plan," Elliot said, blinking at the very obvious doorbell that had somehow escaped his notice before, and pressed the button.

A few seconds later the door opened and a man in his late sixties, early seventies smiled out at them. He raised his white brows a little at the sight of Percy, but all he said was, "I'm Adam. You must be Elliot and Percy." He stepped to the side, waving them in. "It's nice to meet you both. Please, come inside."

They both entered, Percy shaking Adam's hand first, then Elliot following suit. "Thank you for letting us have the party at your house," Elliot said. Gavin hadn't really explained who Adam was, aside from Ambrose's landlord. Gwen had mentioned that Adam was an old friend of her mother's, though, so he had to be a good guy.

Adam snorted. "Nonsense, it was my pleasure. I enjoy having guests. Everyone is in the kitchen right now. Something about having a toast to start off the party once everyone's arrived." He held his hands out. "I'll take the gifts and put them with the others, if you'd like."

"Are we the last ones?" Elliot asked, handing his present over.

Adam nodded, whisking the presents away.

The kitchen was too small to fit nine people, especially not when one of those nine happened to be a giant, but somehow everyone squeezed in there nonetheless, bumping elbows and laughing.

"Elliot!" Gwen said, smiling at him. There was a crease between her eyes, though, and a tentative note in her voice as she said, "I thought you weren't coming."

Elliot laughed and shook his head. "You can't get rid of me that easily," he said, watching understanding and thankfulness light up her face, and then turned to Gavin, who seemed to be serving drinks. "What're we having?"

"A Christmas surprise," Gavin said, waggling his eyebrows as everyone laughed. He poured something bright red into a plastic cup and passed it through the group until Arthur pressed it into Elliot's hand.

"Thanks," Elliot said. He grinned at Elle, who offered him a wave and cheerful grin. She hadn't changed much since the last time he'd seen her, when he'd surprised Gwen with a visit to her apartment when she was still pre-med. If anything, Elle seemed even more alive, first leaning against Gavin, and then dancing a little in place, humming a tune Elliot couldn't make out over the simultaneous conversations in the room. He wondered at the joy spilling over in her smile, then remembered what Gwen had mentioned as she'd left the night before.

"Elle!" he said, and repeated her name until she glanced his way again. He grinned. "I hear congratulations are in order."

Elle beamed. "Yes, they are!" She held her hand up and sighed, looking soft-eyed at her ring finger. She must have caught Elliot's puzzled look, and laughed, wiggling her bare fingers at him. "Oh, there's no ring yet. I'm just having fun imagining one," she explained as Gavin flushed a little and cleared his throat.

Soon everyone had a plastic cup. Together, the group lifted their drinks towards the ceiling. "To December 18th," Ambrose said solemnly, and then laughed as David shook his head at him. "Okay, to Christmas and friends!"

"To Christmas and friends!" everyone chorused and tapped their cups together.

Whatever concoction Gavin had made was strong; it burned Elliot's throat and left his lips tingling. "Shit," he gasped. "What's in this, vodka with red dye?"

Gavin tapped the side of his nose and looked solemn. "A bartender never reveals his recipes."

"What? Most bars have their drink ingredients right on the menu!" Ambrose argued.

"Yes, well, you would know," Arthur said.

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Arthur, I wasn't an alcoholic in college. I just really liked that bar's food options," he said. Ambrose leaned back against David, who smiled softly and wrapped an arm around Ambrose's waist. Ambrose tilted his head up to inform David, "They had these _amazing _sandwiches, chicken seasoned with-"

"No one cares, Ambrose," Arthur sighed.

"Maybe we can go there the next time your football team has homecoming," David said, ignoring Arthur in favor of grinning at Ambrose. "Bring everyone, see your university. Shea's never been to a college game before."

Two spots of color appeared in Ambrose's face. "Really? I think you'd love the place's barbeque-"

Arthur raised his voice. "Okay, let's head out to the living room where there's a bit more space."

Gavin saluted him. "Yes, sir," he said solemnly, only the slight twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.

Arthur made a face at him. "Funny," he muttered.

Elliot's head hurt. It was one thing to know, objectively, that your best friend was the reincarnation of Queen Guinevere. It was quite another thing, he found, to be standing in a room surrounded by people with past lives straight out of legend— Sir Gawain, King Arthur, Lancelot, _Merlin_-

"You okay?" Percy asked.

Elliot blinked. His fingers were wet. He looked down, realizing he'd crumpled his plastic cup and the drink had spilled onto his hand and the floor. "Uh, yes, sorry," he said, grabbing a paper towel. "Just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Gwen said you're new to the city," Percy said. When Elliot nodded, Percy offered, "Whenever I come back here, it takes a few days to get used to the noise and traffic. You'll get used to it too."

Elliot resisted the urge to laugh. Percy was trying to be nice, he knew, but the guy had no idea what was going on. "Thanks," he said, busying himself with wiping up the drink. "Maybe I'll buy one of those soothing music CDs to drown out the sirens."

Percy shrugged. "Might be a good idea." He ducked as he went out of the kitchen and through the dining room to the living room.

When Elliot got out there, Elle was clapping her hands and exclaiming, "Can we do the grab bag first? _Please_? I love seeing everyone's expressions as they get their presents!"

"You just want your present," Gwen objected, laughing.

"That is just an extra bonus," Elle said with a haughty sniff, and then turned an imploring look upon Elliot. "Elliot! You agree with me, right? Presents first, then food?"

"Uh, sure," Elliot said, and Elle beamed at him.

"Now Arthur, remember, the price limit on the gift was $30," Ambrose began, and grinned when Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Next time I'll just buy you socks or something stupid," Arthur warned him.

Ambrose hummed something off-key, looking thoughtful. "I heard there are these nice socks by Rodarte that are a mere $500 a pair," he began. He snickered when Arthur flipped him off.

"Okay, everyone have a seat," Adam said, emerging from somewhere with a large bag. "We'll go in a circle. If you get your present, you just put it back and try again."

Everyone sat down. David and Ambrose shared a love seat. Gwen and Arthur sat together on the couch, darting quick, nervous glances at each other. Gavin sat in one of the single chairs, Elle perching on the armrest and letting her feet rest in Gavin's laps.

Elliot shared a sympathetic look with Percy. So not only were they the outsiders, they were the _single_ outsiders. That was fun. After a moment he shrugged and sat down on the floor, cross-legged next to the couch. Percy sat next to him, folding his legs under him awkwardly. It took him a moment to settle, grimacing a little as he did so.

Adam offered the bag first to Elliot, much to his surprise.

"Uh, thanks," Elliot said, and stuck his arm in the bag, rummaging around until he caught hold of a smallish-sized box. He pulled it out, grinning at silver snowflakes decorating the outside. When he opened it, he couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I guess someone has a sense of humor," he remarked dryly as he pulled out the book on Arthurian legends and showed it to everyone.

Everyone but Percy either laughed or groaned; Percy smiled, leaning closer to Elliot to look at the book.

"I used to like reading about King Arthur when I was a kid," he muttered.

"Oh, really?" Gavin asked, sounding too innocent. Elliot glanced at him in time to catch the mischievous gleam in his eyes as Gavin asked, "Which knight was your favorite?"

"Gavin!" Elle objected, laughing.

Gavin ignored her, persisting, "Well?"

Percy fidgeted a little under everyone's intent looks. "I liked Bors," he said at last.

There was a pause. "Who the hell is Bors?" Gavin asked blankly.

Ambrose, meanwhile, grinned. "Bors! He went with Galahad, Lancelot, and Percival on the quest for the Grail. And I think also helped Lancelot to save Guinevere when, er, she was going to be executed…." He trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable.

Percy nodded. "I liked him," he said. "Wasn't perfect, but he was a good knight and a good man."

"Did you like Percival?" Gwen asked quickly, having tensed a little at the mention of Guinevere's close brush with death.

Percy shrugged. "Reading about someone with a name close to mine was weird," he said.

Adam turned to Gwen next. She held up two free movie tickets and darted a quick, hopeful look at Arthur. "I think I'll put these to good use," she said with a smile as Arthur flushed.

Elliot relaxed a little. He'd figured he couldn't go wrong with movie tickets, but it was nice to be proved right.

Next, Arthur's gift turned out to be a black and white scarf.

Adam continued around the circle until at last he came to a stop in front of Percy. "Last but not least," he said with a chuckle. "I'm afraid you don't get much of a choice, Percy."

Percy shrugged, looking unperturbed. "I'm sure I'll like it," he said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a box. He opened it and squinted for a moment before he pulled out a red book.

"The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook: Life," Ambrose read, his lips twitching. "Well, that should come in handy."

"Maybe," Percy said, and flipped it open. He chuckled. "They've got something about when a wolf pack attacks you. Not much chance of that-" He stopped abruptly, all color draining from his face.

"Percy?" Elliot asked. When Percy continued to stare at the book, a muscle jumping in his jaw, a focused expression on his face, Elliot reached up and shook Percy's shoulder. "Percy, you all right?"

Percy gave a full-body shudder, blinking. "What?" he mumbled. When he turned to look at Elliot, he still looked a little dazed.

"You okay?" Elliot asked. "You sort of froze up there."

Percy nodded and frowned. "It was weird," he said after a moment. "I was reading, and there was this flash, like a wolf was here, and he-" He nodded towards David, who had gone a little pale himself. "-was shouting at me to run, but I grabbed a huge branch from the bonfire and charged the wolves…."

Elliot saw that Percy's pupils had nearly swallowed his irises. His pupils were beginning to shrink back to normal size, but something had shocked Percy badly, and Elliot had a sinking feeling he knew what.

"Gwen," he said, "let me guess-"

Gwen had her head buried in her hands. "It was a gift for anyone," she said a little helplessly. "The other gifts were all special. How can a _grab bag_ present bring back memories?"

"Memories?" Percy said, baffled.

David sighed. "Come on," he said, disentangling himself from Ambrose and getting to his feet. "Let's find someplace quiet and I can explain."

"Okay," Percy said slowly, and followed David out of the room and presumably to one of the bedrooms.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "Guess that means he really _is_ Percival," Gavin said. He squinted thoughtfully at Elliot. "So you-"

Elliot shrugged. "Guinevere's brother, apparently."

"That's it!" Elle's unexpected yell made everyone jump. When Elliot looked at her, he saw the splotches of fury on her face, the way her hands were shaking as she folded her arms against her chest and leaped off the armrest. "So everyone's remembering now, that's great! Oh, Gwen's childhood friend is actually her brother from the past life? Cool! Oh, Gwen's friends are Lancelot and Merlin and Arthur and Gawain? Even better! Oh, this random stranger Lancelot brought from out of town is Percival? That's amazing!"

Elle's voice cracked a little and she flinched away when Gavin reached for her. "I'll just leave you all to your reminiscing," she snapped, and stomped through the dining room, slamming the kitchen door behind her with enough force that it banged back open.

Now the silence was even more uncomfortable. "I'll go," Gavin said, but Gwen shook her head.

"This all seems to be my fault," she said a little wearily. "I'll talk to her."

Gwen disappeared through the kitchen door. She left the door ajar. From his position on the floor, Elliot could see Gwen wrap her arms around Elle and hug her, see Elle stiffen in her arms for a moment and then hug her back. If they were whispering anything to each other, no one in the living room could make out their discussion.

Gradually, though, Elliot could see Elle relax until she stepped away from Gwen and wiped at her eyes.

"Come on, you'll feel better after a drink," Gwen said, voice loud and bright enough to reach everyone's ears.

More faintly came Elle's, "Like you know anything about mixing drinks."

"Fine, watch me mix you poison," Gwen retorted. From what Elliot could see, she was just grabbing random bottles of alcohol and pouring a little into one glass. It was probably going to taste horrible.

"Did you just put some tea in my drink?" Elle asked a little louder, letting out a watery laugh. "That really is going to be poison!"

"Double, double," Gwen began, and Elle went into a fit of laughter and snatched the drink from her.

"If I die, I'm coming back like Banquo," she warned Gwen, lifting the glass to her lips. "I-"

Gwen moved in front of Elle then, blocking Elliot's view of her, but everyone heard the sound of glass shattering.

Gavin was off to the kitchen like a shot. "Elle!"

"Sorry," she said. When Elliot joined the mad rush to the kitchen, he found her pale and a little shaky on her feet. "I got dizzy and knocked one of the wine bottles off the table. I'll clean it up!"

"_I_'ll clean it up," Adam said sternly. "Go and sit down."

"But I'm fine!" Elle protested. It was not very convincing, not when she looked a little green. "I just-" She closed her eyes, took in a breath. She threw her arms around Gavin's neck and looked up at him. "Will you still marry me even if I'm not Ragnelle?" she asked. Elliot couldn't read her expression, whether it was teasing or in deadly earnest.

"Elle, I'd marry you even if you turned out to be Mordred," he announced grandly, but the softness in his face revealed his sincerity.

"That's sweet. Weird, but sweet," she said. Her eyes narrowed and she searched his face as she asked, "How about if I ate live frogs?"

Gavin blinked, staring at her for a second. Then he chuckled. "We can always move to France," he said.

"I didn't mean I want live frogs _now_," Elle protested, leaning up to kiss him. Some of the greenish pallor had left her face at his declaration. "Or ever, because ew. I'm not Mordred, by the way," she added once she broke the kiss. "Apparently, I was royalty. The princess Elena." She shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "Nobody I've seen in any of the legends, but then again, most of the legends say that Guinevere and Lancelot were born to royalty. Shows what _they_ know."

Gavin kissed her again, hands steady on her waist, and Elliot thought he heard him mutter, "I would've married you even if you'd turned out to be a brand-new soul, you know."

"I do," Elle said, and smiled, most of the discomfort leaving her wan features.

Percy came into the room, looking a little dazed. "So," he said. "Knights and magic?"

Arthur nudged Ambrose with his elbow. "Show him some magic," he demanded as Ambrose rolled his eyes.

"Is that my job now? Doing magic and convincing everyone?" he complained before he muttered something under his breath. Instantly the garbage can's top lifted and the shattered glass rose from the floor and flew into the garbage, well away from anyone in the room.

Percy blinked, his expression unreadable. "Interesting," he said at last.

The party continued for a while after that, mostly everyone discussing what memories they remembered as they ate the food that Adam had prepared. Adam sat at the kitchen table, looking a little amused at them all. Once the party began to wind down, Adam cleared his throat. "If anyone is free on Christmas Eve, this is my official invitation to come back here and enjoy a meal."

Gavin grinned. "That's nice of you, but it'd be a little weird to be here when Ambrose isn't," he said.

"Oh," Ambrose said, flushing. "David and I are staying here."

"What?" Arthur said. "Since when?"

"Well, Gwen's father is coming here, and I thought that I should stay in the city until we get things figured out a bit more. And once I've done some more experiments with my magic," Ambrose explained. "So we'll be spending Christmas Eve with Adam."

"Thank you, Adam," Gwen said smiling. "But Elliot and I already have plans with my dad."

Elle glanced at Gavin and then shrugged. "If you want to go, I'm game," she said. "My family Christmas Eve tradition is going to the movies, and I was outvoted on what we were seeing. I'd much prefer dinner here to the new Mission Impossible movie."

"What did you want to see?" David asked, curious.

"Anything but Mission Impossible or the Chipmunks movie," Elle said fervently.

Gavin grinned and draped his arm across Elle's shoulders. "Then we're happy to come."

"My family and I are going to Christmas Eve service," Percy said. "But thanks."

"My father always throws an enormous party," Arthur said with a sigh. "No way of avoiding it, unfortunately."

"Glad I got out of that one," Ambrose said in a loud mutter, and ducked the swat Arthur directed at him. "What? Like your father doesn't ruin Christmas Eve for everyone!"

"Shut up, Ambrose," Arthur said wearily. He hesitated, glancing at Gwen. "Actually, Gwen, I was hoping to speak to you in private…."

"Okay," Gwen said, blushing.

"Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree," Ambrose began to sing, and then blinked as David clamped his hand over Ambrose's mouth. When he blinked in surprise, David smiled apologetically at him.

"Sorry, but you are completely tone-deaf," David said.

Ambrose made a protesting sound against David's hand.

"You really are," Adam agreed, and Ambrose rolled his eyes.

"Well, I should get going. Need to catch a taxi back," Elliot said. "Thank you. It was fun if a little…weird."

"It was nice meeting you," Adam said, smiling.

The air was cold and hit his face like a slap as Elliot stepped outside, tucking the book of Arthurian legends under his arm. After a moment's consideration, he pulled out his cell phone and texted Gwen.

_Did he ask you out?_

A second later, his cell buzzed in his hand.

_None of your business!_

_And yes. Tuesday night! :) :) _


	23. The Christmas Gifts, Monday

A/n: This section was written by Miroslav.

In which Percy and most of the others go Christmas shopping for the kids at the shelter, and Gavin asks Percy for a favor.

(Ambrose/David, Elle/Gavin)

_Monday, December 19, 2011_

Percy rang the doorbell and waited. It was a cold day but his mother had forced a hat and scarf on him before he'd left, so the cold only nipped at his face.

A second later, he heard the sound of pounding feet, and Ambrose flung open the door, red-faced and grinning. "Come in!" he said. "David will be ready in a second." He turned and tossed over his shoulder, "Thanks for driving us."

Percy shrugged. "Elle asked me," he said, by way of explanation. She'd cornered him on the second day of rehearsals and asked if he'd wanted to help her buy Christmas gifts for the kids at the shelter. Who would say no?

Ambrose laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, stick around and you'll find Elle is very good at volunteering people for things."

"I noticed," Percy said. He'd meant it to be matter-of-fact, but apparently Ambrose took it for a joke because Ambrose laughed again.

David came into the living room wearing a very colorful sweater with red and yellow Christmas ornaments decorating it. He pulled a face when he noticed Percy staring. "It was a gag gift from my Secret Santa at school, but then Shea thought I looked good in it," he said, a defensive note in his voice like he'd already had this discussion multiple times. "I promised Shea I'd wear it for Ambrose."

Ambrose shook his head, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I still think you should get Shea checked out for color-blindness," he said. He jerked his head towards the door. "Well, I'm ready when you are." He paused, frowning briefly. "Unless you want something first, Percy- a hot chocolate or coffee or something?"

"No, thanks," Percy said. "Already had some hot chocolate before I came." He glanced around. "Is Adam not here?" he asked, a little awkwardly. It still felt weird to call the older man by his first name, even if Adam had insisted on it. He'd wanted to talk to Adam, anyway, see what he thought of all this reincarnation weirdness.

Ambrose shook his head in denial. "He's off doing some Christmas shopping of his own," he explained as David went to the closet and pulled out a coat and its matching scarf. Ambrose grinned. "Come on. If we're late, Elle'll give us the Evil Eye."

"This should be interesting," David commented to Percy as they headed to the car. "I've always done all my shopping after Thanksgiving so I've never been at a mall this time of year. I'm sure the crowds will be terrible."

"Probably," Percy agreed.

Ambrose snorted. "Please, like a crowd would bother you," he said, looking up at him. "You'll never get lost in a crowd."

"Nope," Percy agreed cheerfully. "Once I hit six-three, my mom started using me to part crowds for her."

The mall was indeed crowded—it took Percy ten minutes just to find a parking spot—but it wasn't difficult to spot Elle and Gavin, not when Elle was jumping up and down and waving her arms at them.

"Hey," Ambrose called, laughing.

"Hey," Elle called back, grinning from ear to ear.

The group huddled together for a moment like they were prepping for a basketball game instead of Christmas shopping. Elle pursed her lips and pulled a few sheets of paper from her purse, looking like a general as she handed them out and explained, "I thought we needed a plan of attack- I looked at the floor plan of the mall and figured out which stores we should hit first to get the best gifts for the kids. On the back are a list of toys that the kids mentioned they wanted, along with other toys and items they might want or need."

"Of course you did," Gavin said fondly, then added in an aside to the others, "You should see her on Black Friday."

"Percy," Elle continued, ignoring Gavin except for the amused smile that flickered across her face, "I'm putting you in charge of top-shelf items that the rest of us can't reach." She beamed at him and patted him on the arm when he nodded. "You're definitely a keeper," she told him. "Now we don't have to waste time trying to get a worker to help us!"

"Percy, you must feel so appreciated," Ambrose declared, snickering until Elle turned to him and said, "And _you_- I know you don't want to use your magic in a public place, but if it comes down to your magic getting that particular toy, go for it."

Ambrose blinked. "Elle, I'm not going to-" he began, and then noticed her expression. He wilted a little. "Fine, just don't tell Arthur," he muttered. "If I use my magic for this, he'll expect me to use magic for him the next time he's feeling lazy."

"Deal," Elle said promptly, then turned to David, who looked torn between amusement and alarm. "You'll be charming anyone who needs distracting, whether it's a woman making a beeline for the last available toy or one of the workers when we take 'for display only' toy."

It was David's turn to blink. "The 'for display only' toy…." He trailed off and took a step closer to Ambrose when Elle nodded. In a low voice, David whispered, "Ambrose, should I be scared?"

"Yes," Ambrose said, belying his words with a muffled laugh.

"What about me?" Gavin asked, wrapping his arms around Elle's waist and grinning at her.

Elle grinned back. "You'll be carrying the gifts," she informed him.

Gavin's face fell a little. Obviously he'd been expecting something more fun than that. "I'm sure I could charm the workers too," he said, a little hopefully.

Elle patted his cheek and kissed him a slow, lingering kiss that made Percy look at his feet and study the now grimy snow. "I know you can, but I want you near me. You know better than anyone what the kids really want for Christmas," she said. "Plus, you've got all the money."

When Gavin nodded and tapped his pocket, smiling, she clapped her mitten-clad hands together. "Okay! Let's get some toys, everyone!"

Most of the shopping was a blur of people constantly bumping into Percy and Percy reaching for toy after toy and dropping it into Gavin and Elle's waiting hands.

The only moment that stood out in his memory was when Gavin darted a quick glance at Elle, who was currently looking at her list and frowning in concentration, and elbowed Percy in the side, prodding him until they'd maneuvered themselves out of Elle's direct line of sight.

"Can you do me a favor?" Gavin asked, staring at him intently from above the half-dozen shopping bags dragging at Gavin's wrists.

Percy blinked. "Sure."

"Distract Elle for me while I go do some last-minute shopping of my own." Gavin grinned at him. "I'd owe you one."

Percy shrugged. "No problem. Getting something special for Elle?" He was surprised when Gavin flushed a little, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Something like that," Gavin muttered. He turned to go, and then hesitated. "Look, Percy- I know David explained things to you, but if you ever want to talk, just let me know, okay? I'm sure getting drawn into this whole thing just from driving a fellow teacher to the city for Christmas must have been weird."

Percy shrugged again, uncomfortable but a little pleased by Gavin's concern. "I'm okay," he said, and he was, mostly. He could have done without the dream last night about kids being in danger, the nightmare that had woken him up in a cold sweat. He'd had to go and check on his cousins, sound asleep in their rooms, before he'd been able to get back to sleep. But otherwise, he was okay.

It was weird, but at least he was Percival, not anyone like King Arthur or Merlin. He smiled at Gavin, who looked unconvinced. "I'll talk to you or David if I need to," he promised, and watched as most of the concern left Gavin's face.

"Okay," Gavin said. "Thanks again. Just distract Elle for a minute, and I'll slip away."

Percy nodded and walked over to Elle who was scratching something off the list with a satisfied smile. "Uh, so about the play- is Alice singing or not? You two were arguing, but I never heard…." Who won, he was about to conclude, but Elle's expression stopped him.

"Alice is going to sing if I have to get John to convince her," Elle declared. "You should hear her voice, Percy. She's got amazing talent. I once heard her-"

Percy nodded as Elle went into a brief list of songs Alice had apparently sung.

After a minute, Elle blinked and looked around. "Where's Gavin?" she asked.

Percy shrugged. "He said something about putting the presents in the car," he said.

Elle smiled approvingly. "Great! Now he'll be able to carry more stuff." She looked down at her list. "Now, we need to hit the kids clothing store next. I saw that they were having sales on coats, and I've got the sizes of all of the kids currently at the shelter-"

Percy let her voice wash over him. Across the aisle, Ambrose and David were studying a toy together, Ambrose wrinkling his nose and saying something as David laughed. He stood there for a moment, drinking everything in.

Yeah, the whole reincarnation thing was weird, but at least they all seemed like good people. It wouldn't be too bad, getting to know them.

"Percy?" Elle said, and Percy blinked. When he looked at her, she had tilted her head and was smiling at him. She touched his arm gently. "I for one am glad you drove David to the city," she said, and laughed. "And not just because you're going to make an excellent ghost."

"Thanks," Percy muttered, smiling back.

"Now," Elle said briskly, "let's get going to that clothing store!"

Percy nodded and followed.


	24. The Walk Home, Tuesday

A/N: This chapter was written by LilyAyl. Thanks again to xZee23x for the awesome review.

In which Arthur walks Gwen home after their first date and they talk. (Arthur/Gwen

_Tuesday, December 20 2011_

"This is weird, isn't it?" Gwen asked when their conversation about the movie had lulled. She readjusted her scarf, her hands playing with the fringe nervously. "Us, on a date, I mean."

"Why? Because we were marr, I mean, together before?" Arthur looked at her, flashing a wry grin. "That's not weird."

"No?"

"King Arthur may have loved Guinevere, but _I'm_ interested in Gwendolyn." The back of his fingers brushed against and caught on hers, tightening like a knot. "Tell me about yourself."

Gwen swung her hand experimentally, to see if he'd loosen or keep hold. "I'm not sure where to start."

"Tell you what—" his hand turned against hers, pressing palm to palm "—20 questions."

"Okay," Gwen said, drawing out the second syllable. This felt like an Elle-sort of idea.

"Favorite color." His arm bumped against her shoulder.

"Yellow. You?" She bumped back, smiling.

"Red. Favorite season."

Gwen held out her free hand to the wind. "Winter."

"Hm, summer for me. Favorite movie?"

"Are you only going to ask me what my favorites are?" Gwen stopped, pulling him so he faced her. To the left was her street.

"What should I be asking you?" He stepped in. The streetlamp backlit him, turning his blond hair golden.

Gwen stepped around him, untangling her hand from his. She walked backward, across her street. "I don't know." She shrugged. "What I do? Or, what I care about?"

"All right." Arthur jogged across the street to catch up with her. "We'll pretend I don't already know the answer to this question, but Gwen, what do you do?"

"I am a doctor. Second year of my residency. And you?"

"A doctor. Wow." She rolled her eyes at his feigned surprise. Arthur touched his chest. "Me? I help run my father's company."

"The charter schools Ambrose talks about?" Ambrose never explained too much about what he did, save to complain. She knew the company was for-profit and managed several schools along the coast, but that was all.

"Yes." Arthur made a face. "Camelot Charter Schools."

Gwen laughed. "Has Ambrose said anything yet?"

"No, which, honestly, is worse. That means he either hasn't realized and so will blurt it out at the worst possible time, or he's planning something." Arthur shuddered.

"Always bad when Ambrose is plotting. He gets a _little_ caught up in the details." She remembered visiting once and finding Adam's living room a horrible mess, with Ambrose occupied by the book shelves with his laptop. Apparently he had been spring cleaning, when he'd decided that Adam needed an electronic record of all the books in the house.

Arthur snorted. "A little? He planned a party for me once. It was supposed to be a surprise, but you know how he is with secrets."

"Go on," Gwen said, smiling in anticipation.

"So, we're on our way when he realizes he'd forgotten the candles."

"Oh, no."

"Yes, so we stop at a grocery store."

"Meanwhile everyone else is still waiting." Gwen caught Arthur's hand and squeezed gently once he slid his fingers between hers. She tugged, guiding him around the corner.

"Yes, but worse, he tells me he just remembered it was his turn to bring breakfast to his morning seminar the next day and he needed to buy ingredients to make cinnamon rolls."

"How was he supposed to fit candles into that?"

"Oh, his lie is worse than that. My birthday is late December. We don't have classes."

"Oh, Ambrose."

"I point this out to him and he tells me it is a study group for the spring semester, as if I would honestly believe that." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Anyway, while he's trying to pick out the right candles while pretending to be shopping for cinnamon and stuff, he must have looked suspicious, because we soon had a tail."

Gwen laughed. "And then?"

"Well, he tried to slip some candles into his pocket so I wouldn't see them, prompting the grocery store guy to come over and ask-" Arthur affected a deep, belly tone "-'How are you boys tonight? Anything I can help you with?' Except," he added in his own voice again, "he wasn't smiling. Of course Ambrose still thinks I haven't caught on yet."

"You didn't." She bumped into his arm. Arthur grinned down, unapologetically.

"Sorry to say, but I played dumb. Ambrose kept tripping over his words and refusing to unpocket the candles, which made the grocery guy think he was doing something far greater than snatching some birthday candles. So we were taken to a break room."

"Arthur, that's horrible."

"I'm horrible? You haven't even heard the worst part."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"After we get everything straightened out and Ambrose apologetically tells me about my surprise party, for which we are, at that point, a half hour late, we go ahead to party. In my defense, I had texted a friend while Ambrose was still trying to pick candles, so they knew we'd be a while."

"That's good at least."

"But we get to the party, with the candles, and they pretend to surprise me and I pretend to be surprised, and we're finally ready to eat the cake, only—"

"Oh no."

"No cake."

Gwen pressed her face into Arthur's arm, muffling her laughter. "He didn't." Arthur loosed his hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"It was still at the bakery counter at the grocery store. My friend never said anything, because he figured if we were there getting candles, we were also getting the cake."

"So you didn't get a birthday cake." She looked up at him.

"Nope." Then, meeting her gaze, he added, "We did find some hotdogs though."

"That's horrible."

"_That's_ Ambrose with a plan."

"He won't like you sharing that story, will he?" Gwen leaned her head against Arthur. They walked more slowly like this, but she didn't mind. The corner up ahead was still too close.

"Probably not. So what's he told you about me?"

"Vain, aren't you?"

"Me, vain? Of course not. I just know Ambrose has a way of exaggerating. I want to clear up misunderstandings." Gwen hid a smile at his blustery tone.

"You don't have to worry."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved his free hand dismissively. "What's he told you?"

"Well, there was this one story about a donkey." She let her tone trail off.

Arthur made a face. "Of course he told you that. Look, no matter what he's said, he did not tell me to pick up a pin-the-tail game. He just told me to 'get the donkey.' It was an honest mistake."

"Sure."

"What else did he tell you?"

"Do you really want to talk about Ambrose?" Gwen pulled out from under his arm and looked back at him, brows raised.

"No. What was that other question you said I should ask?" Arthur grabbed her hand, pulling her close again.

"What I care about," she prompted him.

"Right. Gwen, what do you care about?"

"Hm." Gwen looked up at the bare branches of the trees lining the sidewalk and considered the question. "My father, of course. My friends—" Arthur opened his mouth, but she rushed on, anticipating his query "—and yes, that includes you. Healing people. My mother—" her throat caught. Arthur squeezed her hand, and Gwen breathed, starting again "—she was an E.R. nurse. She used to tell me stories about people who'd come in with their whole lives horribly changed in an instant, and she helped them. She told me that it was her job to help make possibly the worst day of someone's life a little less awful. I've always wanted to do the same, to help where I can. And, besides, I love understanding how the body works and being able to find and fix what's wrong inside. I help people get better. I really can't imagine doing anything else." She shrugged.

"Guess you're in the right profession then."

"Guess so. What about you? What do you care about, Arthur Penn?" She stopped at the corner, turning to face him.

"The Ninth," he corrected. "Can't forget my numbers tying me to my proud lineage." Gwen was about to ask why he sounded so bitter, but he held up a hand, stopping the words in her throat. "No, sorry. What I care about—" he trailed off, looking at the street and cars passing by. His hand slipped from hers. Gwen waited. "I hate ignorance," he said finally, looking back at her. He started gesturing with both hands. He was like Ambrose, it seemed, unable to keep still when worked up over something. "I hate adults getting so tied up in appearances and how a thing looks that they forget about the actual people involved. Education isn't my passion, I admit, but I grew up around it. So I know how kids can get screwed over by, not just unions, but testing companies, governments, teachers, and even other management organizations like ours. I just, I hate it." He stilled in front of her and mimicked her earlier shrug. "So here I am."

Gwen stepped forward, pressing her hand against his arm and smiling up at him. "You're a good man."

Arthur flushed. "I try," he said, looking and pulling away. Gwen stepped back. A second later, Arthur turned back to her, his hand outreached for hers, and he was smiling again. "So second year of your residency. Have you decided what you'll do after?" They resumed walking.

"Not really," Gwen said, accepting the change of subject. "I'd like to stay in the city, or possibly move back to my hometown. It'll depend on where I get a fellowship."

"Fellowship?"

"I want to sub-specialize in Critical Care. That means two-to-three more years learning before I can become an attending. The hospital here has a fellowship, but it is competitive. There's a program in New York I wouldn't mind."

Arthur let out a short bark of laughter. "So, when you say 'not really' you actually mean 'quite a bit.'"

"I'm just looking. I want to come back here afterward, I mean, if I went anywhere. I like it here."

"And I like that you like it here." He winced. "Oh, god, that sounded cheesy."

"No," she argued, on the verge of laughing. "It was sweet."

"Sweet," he repeated in a disgusted tone. "That's almost worse."

"Is it really so bad if I think you're sweet?" she asked, still amused.

"No. Just don't tell Ambrose. Or Gavin."

"Oh, yes, we must protect your pride."

"No. I just know they'd make a joke of it."

"Fine, but you have to tell me the donkey story."

"Agreed." He squeezed her hand. "Next time."

Gwen glanced sideways at him, but he was very intent on the cars parked alongside the road. "All right," she agreed, softly. "Next time."

He looked at her and smiled. Then, glancing over her shoulder, added, "Oh, this is your street, isn't it?"

Gwen sighed. "Yes, it is. Again."

"Again?"

"We walked past it once on the other side." She gestured toward the corner down the street.

"You should have said something."

"I was enjoying the conversation." Gwen looked around the dark street. A couple houses had Christmas lights twinkling, but it was close enough to midnight that most were dark. "It is rather late though."

"Right." They started walking down the street. "Remind me, which building is yours again?"

"The green lamp post." Gwen pointed to the yard ahead of them. Arthur walked her down the short path to the porch and up the chipped-paint wooden stairs. He let go of her hand as they reached her door.

"So," he said, both hands in his pockets. "Here we are then."

"Here we are." Gwen slipped her key into the lock, but didn't turn it. "I had a very good time, Arthur."

"Me too. And maybe next time we can get a meal together. Gavin said there's a bistro you like?"

"I'd like that. Sorry about the mess today and having to push back and everything." She sketched out an apology with one hand.

Arthur shook his head. "It's fine. I'm just glad we were able to go out."

"Me too. So, I guess, good-night, then." Her hand played over her key, but she still did not turn it. She looked up at Arthur, wondering how to broach the idea of a goodnight kiss.

"Good-night." Arthur bent down, pressing his lips to hers. Gwen wrapped one up behind his neck, her fingers brushing against his hair, letting him know that she wanted to kiss him. He opened his mouth to hers and-

_-Arthur pulled away, his fingers brushing her cheek as he sat back and slipped off his shirt. Gwen, propped up on her elbows, bit her lip. "I have been waiting so long for this," he confided, bending back down over her. He fumbled one-handed with the ties of her gown while nipping at her neck, kissing down to her breast. She grasped his shoulder, his skin so hot beneath her hand, and-_

Gwen gasped, pulling back. She bumped into the door behind her. "Did you?"

He was breathing as hard as she. His hands flexing and tightening over her shoulders. "Yes," he ground out. Then, resting his forehead against hers, he added, "I hate this. Part of me wants to-"

"I know. Me too." She could still feel the weight of him, the heat of his tongue through her nightdress and the cooler air after. "But we barely know each other," she said, more to remind herself than him.

"Right." He took a measured step back, his hands sliding slowly down her arms until he held each of her hands. Her eyes fluttered shut at the caress. "I like you, Gwen."

She opened her eyes. "I like you, too."

"I don't want to screw this up." He looked both so very serious and so very frustrated.

"We won't. The dreams-"

"Aren't us, I know. Still, they're-"

"Something to look forward to," Gwen said. Her face was burning, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

Arthur grinned softly. "That's not all I'm looking forward to," he said. "I want to get to know you better, Dr. Gwendolyn Smith." He raised her hands, kissing each as if they were great treasures. "Good night." He stepped back, letting go.

Gwen turned the key in her door, opening it enough that a line of yellow light stretched over the old wooden porch. "Goodnight," she said, slipping indoors. Arthur didn't turn away until her lock clicked. She watched him walk away from the house and down the street. Gwen continued upstairs to her apartment, her heart still pounding and body still aching to call Arthur back and see where their dreams would take them. It took her two tries just to unlock her apartment door. Gwen leaned back against her door, forcing herself to take long, calming breaths. Tonight, she decided, was a perfect night to try that new bath bomb Elle had given her. A warm bath was exactly what she needed.

)


	25. The Rehearsal, Wednesday

A/N: MiroSlav wrote this bit. More notes next time when not on a bus with limited internet!

In which Elle and Percy rehearse A Christmas Carol and get to know each other.

_Wednesday, December 21, 2011_

"Stop!" Elle ordered, and the actors froze in their places. "Alice, you're giving your lines a bit too quickly once the dancing's over— slow it down just a little and the audience will understand you better. Will, I know you're not feeling well, but you're going to have to push past that. Fred is meant to radiate cheerfulness."

"Sorry," Will said, and sneezed. "I swear I'll be over this by Friday," he added miserably.

"You'd better, or Her Majesty won't be pleased," someone muttered.

Elle's breath caught for a moment, a wave of dizziness sweeping over her. She closed her eyes for a moment, silently chanting, _Not now, not now, not now!_ until the vertigo passed, leaving only the distant ringing in her eyes, the faint sounds of a far-off trumpet pronouncing Princess Elena's return to the castle. She opened her eyes and forced a smile on her face. "Just take care of yourself tomorrow and make certain not to put any stress on your voice."

"It's not a sore throat, just a stuffy nose," Will explained. He sneezed again, two loud mini-explosions that made him nearly stumble into Alice.

Elle clapped her hands. "Let's run through the scene one more time and then I promise we'll move on." She sat back in her chair, trying to ignore her headache as she watched the group shuffle around the makeshift stage and start the scene over again.

Why had she wanted to join in the whole 'remembering past lives' craziness again? So far it had just been _weird_, her memories of being a princess turning out less exciting than she'd hoped and even gross at times—no textbooks had mentioned royalty enjoying _live frogs_ for dinner, thank you very much. And the headaches and occasional flashes of memory were distractions she didn't need right now.

Once the company had gone through the scene, and the two others that had needed the most work, Elle clapped her hands and called everyone onto the stage. "Okay, that's it for the day. Great work, you guys! Come in tomorrow, and we'll run through the whole show, see how well it holds together." She smiled at them, putting all her enthusiasm and optimism into the grin. "This is going to be awesome." Not perfect and not their absolute best, but they were still going to do an amazing job, especially considering most companies had at least a month to prepare, not three weeks.

Nearly everyone grinned back, though a few, especially Will, looked stressed enough that Elle found herself adding, "Now who wants to go to bar? First round's on me."

That certainly got everyone's attention.

"And this is why we love you," Will told her solemnly.

"Better not let Gavin hear you say that," someone said, snickering.

Will deadpanned, "Yes, because by 'this is why we love you' I obviously meant that I am secretly in love with Elle, and planning to steal her away from Gavin." He paused, frowning. "Please don't take that out of context and tell him that I'm seducing Elle. I don't think the cure for my cold is having Gavin punch me in the nose."

Elle laughed and linked arms with him, tugging him towards the coat rack. "Oh, Will," she said, shaking her head and offering him a pitying smile. "If you made a move on me, _I'd_ be the one to punch you. Gavin would just be there to hold my purse."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel better," Will muttered, and turned his head away to sneeze again.

Elle caught sight of Percy lurking in the back of the group, trying unsuccessfully to blend into the backdrop. "You!" she called, pointing a finger at him. "That invitation meant you too, Percy! Even if you don't drink. I'll buy you an appetizer or something."

Percy blinked, and then offered her a small, puzzled smile. "Okay."

Once they were at the bar, Elle paid for the first round and then cornered Percy. She grinned a little at the wariness in his eyes.

"So all I know about you is that you know David, you're a gym teacher, you make an excellent ghost, you're very tall," she announced, concluding in a low voice meant only for his ears, "and you were Percival in a past life."

"Yes," Percy agreed, and then was silent.

Elle sighed loudly in exasperation and threw herself into the seat next to him. Was he really not reading between the lines here, or was he being deliberately obtuse? "That was my way of asking you to spill your life story," she said. When he just looked at her, she added, "You know, the usual questions- are you single, do you have any siblings, do you visit your family every holiday and if so, would you be interested in performing in a Christmas play next year. That sort of thing."

Percy grinned slightly at that. "That last one was pretty specific," he said, then shrugged. "Not much to tell, honestly. I'm single, I don't have any siblings but I have a lot of cousins—I visit the city every Christmas and when I can during the summer." He paused. "So is this a regular thing?" he asked, raising one large hand and gesturing at the company. "Performing for the shelter? I know someone said it was your first time doing a Christmas show."

"It's our first time performing at the shelter, period, although the shelter's had music nights for a while," Elle said. She leaned back in her chair, sighing a little at the thought of being able to perform another Christmas play next year, one where they had time to prepare and to create a decent set. "But I'd like to do something again next year."

"You should have Gavin suggest it to the owner," Alice suggested, walking by with a glass of something red and delicious-looking.

"Right," Elle said, her smile freezing on her face. "The owner."

Gavin's continued pretense that the shelter was owned by some mysterious figure that never showed his face was getting ludicrous. She'd seen that plot in enough movies and musicals to figure out fairly quickly Gavin was secretly the man behind the curtain. Now she just wondered when Gavin planned to tell her—hopefully _before_ she actually walked down the aisle and said "I do."

"You okay?" Percy asked.

Elle blinked, and smiled at him, mentally brushing aside her annoyance. "Nothing for you to worry about," she assured him, and then leaned in closer, watching his eyes widen a little. "So, if we do have something again next year, would you be willing to help out?"

"Promise no lines?"

"No lines," Elle promised, clasping her hand to her chest.

"Then sure, as long as I'm helping out kids," Percy said.

Elle beamed at him. "I knew I was going to like you," she said, and patted him on the shoulder. "Now come on, let's have a drink. I won't even make you answer any more questions for the rest of the night."

Percy made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. It took a moment for Elle to realize he was laughing, so softly she could barely make out the sound. "I don't believe that," he said.

Elle laughed. "Okay, maybe not. How about no more questions for the duration of your drink?"

"Deal," Percy said and smiled.


	26. The Apology, Thursday

A/N: As I have yet to go to sleep yet, I'm still counting this as Thursday. This chapter was written by LilyAyl.

Thanks to La Moonlight Lily and Elizabeth Culmer. Your reviews on the past two chapters were fantastic. It really does improve both MiroSlav's and my days to know that people are enjoying this story.

We only have a few days left. We hope you enjoy them just as much.

In which Ambrose calls home to talk to his mother about Christmas. Again.

Some David/Ambrose at the end.

_Thursday December 22 2011_

Ambrose dialed his mother's number nervously. He didn't know what he would say differently than he had the last phone call when he'd said he'd be staying in the city for the holiday, but he had to try.

"Ambrose," his mother answered the phone, her voice warm, but weary.

"Hey, Mom." Ambrose twisted the cord of Adam's kitchen phone between his fingers. "I just wanted to call again. How are you?"

"Good. I helped set up the decorations for the building party tomorrow."

Ambrose closed his eyes, his chest tight with guilt. "Larry's daughters bicker over the music again?"

"Traditional English hymns versus modern pop carols," his mother confirmed. The annual battles between Larry's two eldest daughters had been part of Christmas nearly as far as Ambrose could remember.

"I'm not upset I missed that," Ambrose said with a flicker of a smile. "Who strung the popcorn this year?"

"Dahlia took care of it while her sisters bickered. How are you, Ambrose?"

"That's actually a more complicated question than you'd think," Ambrose said. He pressed his head back against the kitchen wall, thankful for the quiet house. Adam was already asleep; and, David was upstairs showering. He could hear the pipes in the walls.

"I don't need a degree to know something is upsetting you." Her voice softened. "What's wrong?"

"I wish I could be there, Mom," Ambrose said, forcing every drop of sincerity and honesty he had into his words.

"I know."

He pressed on. "But I can't. And, I wish I could _explain_, but you'd never believe me." He would have to show her like he had showed Adam and everyone else. Sometimes he envied the others; they only had to deal with memories, while he got the double whammy of memories and magic. Other times, though, he appreciated the magic. It was far more convincing than talking about dreams.

"Surprisingly, Ambrose," his mother said, her tone almost wry, "I do not think you would miss our Christmas if it wasn't an emergency. I trust you." This made him feel even worse. In this case, their definitions of _emergency_ had no chance of overlapping.

"I will explain," Ambrose said. He could feel himself starting to babble. "I promise. New Year's. David won't be able to make it, but I'll come and I'll explain. I just, I can't leave now."

His mother laughed. "Ambrose, I do miss you, but I also trust you. And, don't worry. I won't be alone. Liam's family has invited me to celebrate with them."

Ambrose smiled. "Liam is a good friend." When Ambrose had first realized he was gay, Liam was the first person he'd told. They'd drifted over the years, but Ambrose would never not count him as one of his closest friends.

The pipes ground behind him, the water stopping. "I love you, Mom," Ambrose said. "I just thought I should call and tell you. And, I'll miss you on Christmas."

"I love and will miss you, too. Call me again on Christmas. We can watch our movie together over the phone."

Ambrose grinned. "Definitely. That's sacred. Good night, Mom. Sorry for calling so late."

"Don't apologize for that. I'm just happy to talk with you. Good night."

Ambrose waited until he heard his mother's phone click, then he reached up and slipped the phone into its cradle without looking.

He heard David moving toward the stairs. "Ambrose, I'm—" David's voice was a stage whisper.

Ambrose went to the bottom of the steps. "I know. I heard the pipes." He enjoyed the view of David at the top of the stairs, his hair still wet, chest bare, and wearing a pair of thin sweats.

"Are you going to stare all night; or, are you going to come upstairs?"

Ambrose started taking the steps quietly in twos. "I'm coming. I'm coming." When he reached the top, he hooked one hand behind David's neck, pulling him in for a short, hard kiss. "Good night."

David pushed in, lengthening and softening the kiss. "Good night," he agreed. "Let's go to bed."

"That," Ambrose said, some of the tension from talking with his mother seeping out of him, "sounds like an excellent idea."


	27. The Carol, Friday

A/N: This section was written by LilyAyl. Sorry for posting it a day late here on ff.n. After Christmas, we may return to expand this chapter out a bit.

A/N 2: Thanks to nolieftcupcakes for the run of reviews over the first ten chapters. That was an awesome early gift.

As to some of your wonderings—David was once in a relationship with a woman named Lainie. She became pregnant and had Shea, but died a couple years later. David and she never married. David is bisexual.

Elle is Elena. She is a one-shot character who nearly married Arthur. Her character is a lot of fun. Your other guesses are spot-on.

As for the ring—maybe we'll make a story of that. After the holiday.

In which there is A Christmas Carol.

(Elle/Gavin)

_Friday, December 23 2011_

"_A Christmas Carol_ is a song with five verses," Elle said. "Mean Scrooge, Past, Present, Future, and Nice Scrooge." She counted them off on one hand. "This will be exhausting," she admitted, looking primarily to Will and Cate, who were filling the bulk of the roles, "but we can do it."

"This is going to be a disaster," Cate said.

"Just remember your costumes," Elle said. "Will, Fred has the scarf, and—"

"Bob has the hat," Will said, touching his cap. "Marley is neither and carries the chains."

"And Cate?"

Cate closed her eyes and recited, "Beard, bonnet, bright coat, skirt, shawl, and apron." She opened her eyes. "I hate you, by the way."

"See," Elle said, smiling. "We'll be fine." She turned to the rest of her cast. "Alice, you hold the story together. Coby, you carry it. Percy, be scary. And, J.J.—" Elle crouched down by Alice's son "—you have the most important part of all."

"God bless us, everyone," J.J. said. Elle ruffled his hair.

"Exactly." She stood back up. "I know we're short people. I know this will be rough in parts. We have a cobbled together script, barely any set, and have had even less rehearsal time. But none of that matters, because I know we can do this. We have to help each other and keep the show going. Only five verses. We can make it. Are you ready?"

Elle grinned at her cast, proud of each one and how much they'd stepped up over the past several weeks. When Russell had hurt his knee, Will and Cate had each taken on an additional role to fill the gap, and Percy, even though he'd not known Elle at all, had stepped as a very effective ghost. Alice, despite all of her protests, had prepared five short songs, each perfectly setting the tone for the next set of scenes, and brought in her son to help as well. Even Coby had committed from the very first planning session for the play, impressing Elle enough that she'd agreed to let him play Scrooge.

"All right," Elle said. "Gavin will introduce us, then Alice, you're up." Alice nodded. "All of the costume pieces and props are on tables beside the stage. Ready?"

"Ready," Coby said with his usual confidence. The others nodded and muttered the same.

"Perfect," Elle said. "Let's go."

The stage was not the humblest one Elle had played upon, but it was close. The stage was small, more suited for music performances and short skits. The offstage area was marked off with pairs chalk or white boards on either side, blankets pinned beneath to better hide the actors. The backdrops and props had been created by shelter volunteers and were, as such, of variable quality. Their curtain didn't draw open and closed, but rather rolled on and off stage on caster wheels. It was hodge-podge, but Elle was certain they'd make it work.

Gavin, seeing them leave his office, stood and quieted the audience. Alice took a deep breath and moved onto the stage. As she started to sing, Coby and Will got into their places. Elle and Cate put on their beards, and Elle buttoned up her coat over a pillow, adding girth.

Once Alice reached mid-chorus (_Comfort and joy!_), Coby pushed onto the stage. "Bah Humbug!" he interrupted. After he'd exited on stage left, Alice sang a couple lines from "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" as she pushed the curtain aside and followed Coby off-stage.

The play went about as expected. Cate and Coby had a bit of an argument in the second stanza while on stage as Fan and Scrooge, giving the brother and sister an unplanned, somewhat unsettling dynamic.

Will forgot to remove his hat in the third stanza as he moved from being Bob at his family's dinner to being Fred at his party. Luckily, little J.J. had noticed and had tugged on the scarf before Will could go onstage. Less luckily, however, the scarf had been looped around Will's neck at the time.

Percy's Ghost made one child watching shout and start crying in fear. Percy had frozen, forcing Coby to rearrange the scene on the spot. In the end, however, the audience had laughed in all the right places and clapped at the end.

As the cast mingled with the audience after the curtain call, Gavin pulled Elle aside, asking to see her in his office.

"So," Gavin said, shutting the door behind them.

"So," Elle repeated.

"First," Gavin said. "I want you to know I love you."

Elle smiled. "I thought you might."

"Don't forget that. Second—" he stopped and shoved back his hair from his face in what Elle recognized as frustration. "This is more difficult than I thought it'd be."

"I already know about the dreams, Gavin," Elle teased.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. "Right. Okay, so." He stopped moving. "This is my office."

Elle looked around the room. "Yes, it is."

"This is also the owner's office. Of this shelter, I mean. That is—"

She was tempted to finish the sentence for him, to say what she'd known for months, but she still wanted to hear the truth from him. Gavin took another deep breath.

"I own this shelter. I have money, not as much as Arthur, but a lot. I never wanted it."

Elle stepped forward, wrapping Gavin in a tight hug. "Thank you."

"You knew?" Gavin asked, pulling back. He searched her face.

Elle nodded. "Yes, well, about the shelter, yes. I only knew about the money as far as the owner always having enough."

Gavin kissed her. She could feel his relief. "I have something for you," he said, breaking the kiss.

"Oh?"

He picked up a small, wrapped box from his desk and pressed it into Elle's hand. The box was the perfect size for a ring. Anticipation squeezed her chest. Elle unwrapped the package, revealing the ring box she'd hoped to find. She was afraid to open it in case inside was only earrings or similar. "Is this—" she started to ask, interrupted by Gavin taking and opening the box.

"It's beautiful," Elle said, awe hushing her voice. She took the ring and slid it onto her finger.

"No hesitation," Gavin said, smiling. "I like that."

Elle laughed. "None," she said, kissing him. "Absolutely none at all."

**Additional Notes:**

If you are curious, here is how the play worked.

Cast:  
>Coby Hahn – Scrooge<br>Alice Little — Belle and transition songs  
>Percy Woods — Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come<br>Elle Goodwin — Ghost of Present, one of the Portly Gentlemen, the Kid on Christmas Morning  
>Cate Potter — One of the Portly Gentlemen, Fan, Scrooge's maid, Mrs. Cratchit, Fezziwig, Woman at Fred's Party<br>Will Redd — Fred, Bob Cratchit, Ghost of Past, Marley  
>John, Jr. 'J.J.' Little (Alice and John's son) — Tiny Tim<p>

Russell Fox was originally going to play the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, Marley, and Fezziwig.

Alice is Belle who is telling the story of her first love. Some scenes she knows to be true; others are made up. She is in every set of scenes in the background, save for when she appears as Belle. Her costume never changes.

Each set of scenes is short. The Portly Gentlemen in the first set are retained solely to give Will a bit of time between being Bob and Fred.

In the scenes of the past, Scrooge fills in for his younger self, reliving each memory until it becomes too much. The other characters carry on as if he is still there, even if he has gone to the spirit to ask to leave. This is particular poignant in Belle's break-up scene in which Scrooge first refuses to take over the role, but then tries to change it. He pleads with Belle to forgive him, but she continues with the script of the past.

Very few of the lines were strictly written. Instead, each player knew their characters and the purpose of each scene. As they practiced, though, they did create an informal script.

If there are any questions about how the play worked, please ask. I probably spent too much time on planning it, rather than on writing this chapter.


	28. The Eve, Saturday

A/N: This chapter was co-written.

This series is very nearly done. Thank you, everyone, who has been reading; and, special thanks to those who have also been reviewing. Doing this series has been both a lot of fun and a little stressful.

Christmas Day will feature shorter scenes (100-500 words probably) for each of the characters. We already have several decided, but if there is something in particular that you would like to see happen on Christmas Day, please let us know.

Happy Holidays!

**Christmas Eve, 2011**

"Sorry!" Elle said breathlessly as soon as Ambrose opened the door. She was flushed and already waving her hands in vaguely apologetic movements. Gavin, hovering behind her, shot Ambrose a rueful look. "I was about to walk out the door, on time, I swear, and then my mom called to tell me all about how my cousin's visiting with her girlfriend and how she needs me to show them around the city on the 26th."

"And somehow that conversation took twenty minutes," Gavin added.

Elle made a face. "Apparently my cousin can't have anything with gluten now. It took fifteen minutes for my mom to understand that no, I wouldn't accidentally poison anyone and that yes, I'd figure out where we could go _later_. I swear I told her three times I was running late to dinner, and she _still_ wanted my opinion on what movie she and the rest of the family should see tonight."

"I can actually help you with the gluten-free issue," Adam said, smiling as Elle and Gavin handed Ambrose their coats and Ambrose put them in the closet. "I have a friend with Crohn's disease, so I have a list of stores and restaurants that are safe to use. Remind me to email you the list later tonight."

Elle threw one arm around Adam's neck and gave him a brief, enthusiastic hug. "You're a life-saver," she said. Ambrose watched as she took a step back and breathed in deeply. "Something smells delicious."

"David helped Adam cook," Ambrose said cheerfully. "Just wait until you try his sweet potato soufflé. He does this thing, with brown sugar and walnuts-"

"Yes, just ignore the giant hole in the middle," David said, emerging from the kitchen to grin at everyone.

"It's a very small hole on the _side_," Ambrose objected, bumping David's shoulder with his own when David chuckled and raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "It is! And I tried to cover it up with more brown sugar, so I bet it wouldn't even be noticeable if you didn't tell everyone to look for the hole." He noticed Elle's expression and rolled his eyes. "And I used a spoon, not my fingers, thank you. I'm not a caveman."

"Everything's ready," Adam said. "Just sit down and I'll start pulling things out of the oven."

"We can help," Gavin offered, but Adam shook his head.

"No, please, sit down, I've got this covered. Ambrose, you can handle drink orders? I'd like sweet tea."

"Okay, we've got tea, sweetened or unsweetened; diet soda; apple juice, and water," Ambrose said, trying to remember who wanted what as several answers flew at him. Suddenly he was a little glad Arthur, Gwen, Percy, and Elliot weren't here. Remembering five people's orders was hard enough.

'You'd be the worst waiter ever,' he could imagine Arthur saying. Yeah, it was definitely good that currently Arthur was stuck with his father, schmoozing people at a fancy and doubtlessly boring Christmas Eve party.

Once everyone had gotten their drinks and Adam had set the food out, Adam cleared his throat. The group fell silent as Adam looked around. "I'd like to take a moment just to say that I'm glad to see you all here tonight," he said. "I know you've all had quite a bit going on in the past few weeks."

"Understatement of the century," Ambrose muttered, only half-joking. Between magic, reincarnated memories, Shea being spirited off to France, and Gavin and Elle getting _engaged_, life was more than a little chaotic and weird.

"I realize that Thanksgiving is usually when people give thanks, but I've always considered Christmas—and Christmas Eve, don't make a face at me, Ambrose—a time to be with the people we care about and give thanks that we've survived another year." Adam smiled. "I'm thankful that everyone's in good health despite the stress you've all been enduring. I'm also thankful that you all have found people you truly care about, and who obviously care about you."

Ambrose knew he and David were exchanging small, smitten smiles. He felt a little better in that Gavin and Elle were giving each other equally love-struck looks.

"I am also thankful for this meal that David helped me prepare." Adam paused, and then added a little dryly, "I am especially thankful that Ambrose didn't damage anything more than the soufflé."

"Hey!" Ambrose protested as Elle giggled. He slumped a little in his seat. "Well, I'm grateful for Adam continuing to let me live here nearly rent-free. I'm grateful that David's here with me, even though I wish Shea could be here too. I'd also _be_ grateful if people would put a moratorium on soufflé jokes for the rest of the night."

"Oh, Ambrose," Elle said, a little pityingly. "You know that's not going to happen, right?" She held up her hand, the ring on her finger catching the light. "I'm grateful for Gavin," she said simply, and then laughed a little and added, "And I'm grateful that he has good taste in rings, if not in clothes."

"Hey," Gavin protested more mildly. "I am fashionable."

"If by fashionable, you mean color-blind, then yes," Elle said, patting him on the cheek and kissing him briefly. "No one should wear bright orange unless they're in prison or helping children cross the street."

Gavin shook his head, a small grin playing at the corner of his mouth, and kissed her back. "I'm grateful for you," he said simply. "And I'm grateful for you and your friends and all your hard work to perform for the shelter. I know it was difficult."

"Yes, it was," Elle said, but she didn't sound annoyed. "Next year you'll just have to give us more notice."

"Will September do?"

Elle pretended to think it over. "September's acceptable," she decided.

David cleared his throat. "I'm thankful to be with you all tonight. It's been…hard, not getting to see Shea—" Here, Ambrose couldn't help but take David's hand and squeeze it comfortingly. "—but spending time with you all has helped." David turned to Ambrose, his expression softening. "Being with you is wonderful," he said softly, quietly enough that Ambrose didn't think anyone else could hear.

Ambrose smiled and squeezed David's hand again, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against David's mouth.

Gavin's stomach rumbled, interrupting the moment as everyone laughed. Gavin pulled a face. "I think that means we should stop talking and start eating," he said. "Pass me that famous sweet potato soufflé, would you, Adam?"

The dinner was a slow, casual affair. The conversation meandered every which way, from how Ambrose's fall classes had gone (well, though he was glad to be finished with that particular professor) to what shows Elle was thinking of performing for 2012 ("Not _Camelot_," she'd said with an indelicate snort) to where Elle might take her cousin and her cousin's girlfriend ("There's a museum—" Ambrose had started to say, only to blink and shrug when Gavin had asked if museums were even open the day after Christmas).

After everyone had finished their dessert, Gavin leaned back in his chair with a groan. "Okay, if this was a Christmas Eve meal, I'm a little worried about tomorrow," he said, patting his stomach. He darted a quick, almost flustered smile in Elle's direction. "My mom will cook enough to feed an army."

Elle's face went a little pink. "Oh, that's good to know," she said, tapping her fingers nervously on the table and nearly knocking her spoon off the table. "We're, um, going to see Gavin's mom tomorrow," she explained, not quite meeting anyone's gaze as she smiled, obviously torn between excitement and nervousness.

"She'll love you," Gavin assured her.

"Right," Elle said. She leaped to her feet, this time succeeding in knocking her glass over. Luckily it was empty. "Okay," she said, clapping her hands and talking a little too loudly. "Let's go."

Everyone stared. "Go where?" David ventured at last, when it was obvious no one else would.

Elle favored them with an incredulous expression. "Caroling, of course!" she said, as though it should have been obvious. This being Elle, Ambrose thought, they really _should _have seen it coming. "Well?"

There was a beat of silence. "Let me get our coats," Gavin said with a grin.

David helped Ambrose on with his coat, smoothing down the collar. His fingers were cool and gentle against Ambrose's throat as he leaned in and pressed another kiss, this one slow and tender, to Ambrose's mouth. "Don't worry," he murmured against Ambrose's lips. "I think she expects you to mouth the words, not to actually sing."

"Good," Ambrose said, grinning like an idiot and warm all the way down to his toes. "I really didn't feel like getting water thrown at us tonight."

**~EL~**

Elliot normally thought of carolers as annoyances. He'd only encountered them a few times outside of nursing homes during his travels, but each time he'd fumbled for the proper protocol: should he go out and listen? For how many songs? What if it was freezing cold? Was he expected to supply hot drinks? How did he tell them to move on without shutting a door in their faces? Personally he preferred his Christmases without the door-to-door soundtrack of variable quality.

This Christmas, however, when he heard the faint, but growing strains of _We Wish You a Merry Christmas_ from down the hall, he nearly leapt to his feet. "Gwen, I think you've got carolers."

"It's probably just some students," Gwen said, following him to her apartment door. "Pre-gaming or whatever it is. I know several on my floor were stuck here for the holidays."

"Still, we should check, don't you think? Give them some cocoa or something."

"I didn't realize you liked carolers," Tom said. Elliot hid a wince. He loved Tom; he always had. But now, he could not look at the man without feeling an overwhelming weight of guilt and wanting to call the man "father" or "dad." The latter was not a new desire, but the memory of once doing so, of once really being father and son made calling the man "Tom" painful.

Elliot envied Gwen. She'd gotten their father. It wasn't fair.

"They can be nice," Elliot said. "When in-tune." He looked out Gwen's door, and laughed. He moved out of the way so that Gwen could look as well. "Think they're here for you."

"Who is it?" Tom asked.

"Gwen's friends," Elliot said, still grinning.

Gwen elbowed him lightly. "Our friends," she corrected. Elliot appreciated the correction, even as he doubted its accuracy. Gwen's lot were good people and had been very inviting, but a grab-bag, basketball game, and bundle of memories did not necessarily mean they were friends. They got along. Elliot got along with loads of people.

"Come on in," Gwen called to the others when they reached her door. "I can't believe you guys did this."

"Blame Elle," Ambrose said. He stopped in the middle of the living room and sniffed. "Is that turkey?"

"Yes. Did you want some? We have plenty left over." Gwen took a step toward her kitchen.

"No," Ambrose answered. He gave Adam a significant look. Adam only looked upward, as though appealing to a higher power.

"Oh, you have the game on," Elle said. "Who's winning?"

"Ravens just beat out the Browns," Tom said.

"Really? They were losing last I'd checked. I knew I should have picked them this week." She and Tom started trading notes regarding the various teams.

"She likes football?" Elliot asked, hanging back by Gavin. He wished he'd known back when she and Gwen had lived together. They might have had more to talk about.

Gavin smiled, only a bit soppily. "She is a woman of many surprises."

"I noticed you finally got her a ring for her finger. Congrats again."

"Thanks. I'm just happy she likes it," Gavin replied. "Apparently my taste is questionable." He gave a wry grin.

"Girls," Elliot said, shaking his head. "All taste save theirs is questionable."

"Have lots of experience in that arena, do you?"

"Grew up with Gwen, didn't I?" Elliot flashed an easy smile. He liked Gavin. The man knew his way around a joke and did work that Elliot could admire. "So, caroling?"

"Elle's idea. We managed to talk her down from a full scale house-by-house event though."

"To just Gwen's?"

"And Arthur's," Gavin said. "We should be heading there soon, I think."

"We will," Elle said, joining them. She was pulling Tom behind her. "Tom, this is Gavin. My fiancé."

"Pleased to meet you, Gavin," Tom said, extending his hand.

"You as well, sir," Gavin replied.

"Come on," Elle said, "you should meet David too. You do know Ambrose, don't you?"

Gwen chased after her. "I can do introductions, Elle."

"Does he know yet?" Gavin asked, jerking his chin toward Tom.

Elliot shook his head. "Gwen's afraid that she'll bring his memories back if she tells him. She doesn't want him to remember dying. She's still having nightmares over it herself."

"And you?" Gavin asked.

"I wasn't there," Elliot said, hoping Gavin would recognize in his tone of voice that he'd rather not talk about it.

He did, and instead turned the conversation to the shelter he worked at, asking if Elliot would like to get involved.

"Ack!" Elle's cry of alarm cut through their conversation. "We need to get to Arthur's if we're going to sing for him. Elliot, can we take your car? Adam's abandoning us to talk with Tom."

"Did I say I was going?" Elliot asked.

Elle gave him a puzzled look. "Of course you're going. Do you mind driving?"

Gavin chuckled softly beside him. "Might as well give in," he advised _sotto voce. _

Elliot sighed. "Sure," he said. "It'll be a tight fit, I'll drive."

Elle clapped her hands. "Fantastic. Ambrose, you're navigator. Tom, it was great to see you again. And let's go!" She led the group out of the room.

Elliot grabbed his keys from the pegboard by Gwen's door. He turned back to Adam and Tom. "I guess we'll see you later then," he said.

Tom waved him on. "Have fun. Drive safe. Holidays bring out the crazy in people."

Elliot forced a grin. "We'll be fine. See ya." The others were still waiting in the hallway. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you where I parked."

Packing into his car was not as difficult as Elliot had feared. Being a fifth wheel had its advantages, apparently. Ambrose and David squeezed together with Gavin in the backseat. Elle sat in Gavin's lap. Gwen took shotgun.

Ambrose gave directions from the backseat, a microsecond before too late. More than once, Elliot was forced to make a sudden and unexpected turn. Meanwhile, the others bickered over which carols they should sing for Arthur and his family. Ambrose suggested annoying them with a full-lisping version of _All I Want for Christmas_, while Elle and Gwen argued against. Even when they'd finally settled on singing _Joy to the World_, they'd been unable to decide between the traditional version and the one that started with "Jeremiah was a bullfrog." Eventually Gwen put her foot down saying the bullfrog version was "not a Christmas song" and so they all started warming up for the "heaven and nature sing" version.

Elle wanted to work out harmonies, but luckily Ambrose announced they'd arrived before she could do so. Ambrose had warned that Arthur might be busy with a party, but whatever party had been seemed to have wound down. The lights, save for the twinkling ones on display, were all dimmed; and, several cars were pulling away.

Ambrose led them to a side entrance. "If Arthur is here, he'll hear us best from here."

Elle hummed a note and numbered off one-two-three, signaling them to start singing.

Instead of Arthur, a tall woman with moon-white skin and loose, dark curls came to the window. The next word of the song ("prepare") stuck in Elliot's throat; he coughed. The woman scanned their group, and then leaned back, talking to someone else in the room. A moment later, Arthur also looked through the window. Then he opened the window and leaned out.

"You're not letting Ambrose sing, are you?" he asked.

"Hey," Ambrose protested. "I can sing plenty well." He then launched into the chorus.

Arthur made a face. "Oh, shut up, Ambrose. Come in, all of you, before one of our lingering guests wonders what animal we were just torturing." He motioned to a set of stone steps leading up to a door near his window.

"What's this?" Elliot asked, as he entered the room. Besides the outside door, it had doors on either side of one corner and a large fireplace on the last wall. "A secret hide out?"

"Game room," the woman said. "Safe territory."

While Arthur flirted with Gwen and razzed Ambrose, Elliot drifted over to the woman standing by the fireplace. Up close, he realized he knew her.

"Anna," he said, surprised. "You look fantastic."

Anna squinted at him. "And you're Elliot. Gwen's brother."

Elliot froze. "You too?" he asked. When Anna gave him a blank look, he explained. "You're mixing memories. Gwen and I aren't related here."

Anna's eyes widened. "I'm not the only one?" she asked.

Elliot blinked. He considered calling Gwen over to explain, but that would bring everyone. He did not think Anna would appreciate the full onslaught of stories and theories. So he just shook his head. "You're not alone." He waved a hand at the larger group. "We're all in the same boat."

"And the magic?" Anna asked, lowering her voice.

"Magic?" Elliot asked.

Anna cupped her hands together, then opened them to reveal a pale, golden light within. The light swirled and formed pictures that Elliot could not quite make out before Anna closed her hands again. He met her gaze. "For that," he said. "You'll have to talk with Ambrose."

"Glad to know I'm not alone," she said. "I thought—"

"—You were going mad?" Elliot asked. He smiled and breathed deep. "Yeah. Join the club."

Anna returned his smile.

Elliot motioned toward Gwen. "Aren't you going to say hello?"

"And intrude on her happy moment with Arthur? I think not. I'm not…" she trailed off, but Elliot could feel the thoughts in her silence.

"I don't know them either," he confessed. "Just Gwen, really. Then this happens." He watched Gwen and the others joke. Gavin held Elle around the waist, while David and Ambrose kept close to one another, but also kept a close watch on the doors.

"Sometimes," Anna said, her soft voice surprising him. "I don't like what I remember."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Neither do I."

"Do you want to sit?" Anna asked after a long moment of shared silence.

"Sure," Elliot said. "You can tell me what you've been up to all these years. A normal conversation."

Anna smiled. "I'd like that."

They sat and Anna told him about her sister and her work in the education system. Elliot shared stories of his time in City Year. Gavin, overhearing, used that to talk about the tutoring service Elliot really ought to volunteer for. Anna asked about the service, mentioning she knew some students who might benefit. The conversation grew, but not once were dreams or memories mentioned. Elliot basked in the normalcy.

When the clock started playing the melody for eleven o'clock, Gavin and Gwen each announced that they really should be getting home. Elliot stole a pen and paper scrap from Gwen's purse while she and Arthur were occupied with their good-byes and wrote down his number. He slipped the paper to Anna.

"You don't have to call me," he said. "But I'd like to keep in touch. I'm still new to the city and could use some interesting and intelligent friends."

Anna laughed. "I won't tell the others what you just implied. And, thanks." She folded the scrap into her card purse. "I could use some interesting and intelligent friends as well."

Elliot grinned. "Good to know. I should get down to the car and start getting these people home."

"Be careful."

"I will. I'll talk to you later?"

She nodded. "Count on it. Merry Christmas."

Elliot grinned. "Yeah," he said. "I really think it is."


	29. The Little Moments, Sunday

A/N: And now we have reached our final chapter. Thank you for following along with us over the past four weeks. Special thanks again to xZee23x for her wonderful review.

This project has been a learning experience for both MiroSlav and I, but fun. If the various characters are still unclear, please let us know. Also, if you're ever bored, you can go back through and try to guess who all the side characters are. With very few exceptions (primarily in the three flashback chapters), every character mentioned by name is from Robin Hood (BBC), Arthurian mythology (beyond the BBC), Chaucer, Shakespeare, or traditional English ballads.

We hope you all enjoy this chapter. MiroSlav wrote the first, and second, and fifth sections. LilyAyl wrote the third, fourth, and sixth.

**Christmas Day**

**David and Ambrose**

At first David didn't know what had woken him. Ambrose was a warm weight against his back, one arm draped across David's waist and holding him close, breathing slowly but loudly in his ear.

After a moment, though, his cell's ring tone cut through Ambrose's noisy breathing. David squinted in disbelief at the clock. Who could be calling at 6 in the morning on Christmas? Ambrose's mother knew better than to call at such an indecent hour.

He wiggled his way free of Ambrose's grasp, grabbing the phone and ignoring Ambrose's mumbled inquiry about who was calling. It was an unfamiliar number, and for a second David was tempted to deny the call and go back to sleep.

"Answer it," Ambrose said drowsily. "Could be important."

David dragged his thumb up the screen and lifted the cell to his ear. "Hello?" he asked. The word came out as a croak, his voice rusty from sleep and last night's singing.

"Dad!" Shea chirped.

David nearly rolled off the bed in surprise. Suddenly he was wide awake. "Shea?"

"Shea?" Ambrose repeated. David didn't have to glance over his shoulder to know that Ambrose was beaming at him in amazed delight.

"Dad! I wanted to call ALL DAY, but Grandma and Grandpa said the call was too expensive, but then I told them that you'd be sad if I didn't call, and that I asked Santa to let me talk to you on Christmas, and that Santa had promised I could talk to you, and they said YES," Shea said, all at a rapid-fire, excited pace.

David lay back down, grinning at Ambrose and the ceiling of the bedroom. "Well, they couldn't argue with Santa," he agreed. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as Ambrose caught his free hand in his and squeezed it. "I'm glad you called," he said softly, joy making him feel weightless. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dad!" Shea said, laughing.

David kept his eyes closed, smiling, as Shea began to excitedly tell him all about the presents "Santa" had brought him.

"Merry Christmas, David," Ambrose whispered in his other ear.

"Merry Christmas," David whispered back. 

**Percy**

"Percy! Percy!" Torren was wriggling with excitement by the time Percy stumbled out of bed and opened the door to the guest room. "It's time for presents!"

"Did Santa bring a lot?" Percy asked, grinning at his cousin's enthusiastic nod.

"Tons!" Torren declared, and went up on his tiptoes to grab at Percy's hand. "Come on!"

Percy slouched a little, letting his cousin to catch hold of his hand and allowing Torren to drag him into the living room. The smell of pine and hot chocolate reached him, and his grin widened at the sight of Valerie tearing into a present with eager determination.

Dinah shot him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. "As you may have noticed, we decided not to wait for you," she explained dryly.

"Valerie was going to scream if she didn't open a present!" Dominic announced, and then stuck his tongue out at Torren when his brother muttered, "Tattletale."

Lambert wrapped an arm around Percy's leg. "I got a dinosaur!" he said happily.

Percy pretended to look around the room. "Must not be a big one," he said, earning a delighted giggle from Lambert.

"No, silly, it's a _toy_," he said. "Want to play dinosaurs? You can be the T-rex!"

"Lambert!" Dinah said, laughing. The look she shot Percy then was apologetic, but he just grinned at her. "First we all open our presents. Then you can play."

Lambert released Percy with reluctance, and Percy sat on the couch with Dinah. For a few minutes, he and his sister just watched the kids tear open their presents. "I'm sorry we missed your performance at the shelter," she said.

He shrugged. "You already had plans. It's fine," he said. He shook his head. "Besides, I made a kid cry. Wouldn't have wanted to scare Dominic or Valerie."

Dinah laughed and nudged him with her elbow. "That just makes me want to see your performance even more," she said, and paused. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No," her husband said, overhearing. "Just means you're not a saint, surprisingly."

Dinah laughed and made a face at him.

"I don't think anyone taped it," Percy said. He thought for a moment. "Could ask Elle," he said finally. "She might've gotten someone to film it."

"Sounds good," Dinah said, and then sighed as something whizzed by her head. "Every year," she said, shaking her head as Torren threw another wrapping paper ball at Percy. "Every dang year."

"Family tradition," Percy said, and then flinched as Valerie caught him right in the middle of the forehead with a paper ball with the bow still attached. He got to his feet, mock-growling as Valerie shrieked with laughter. "Revenge," he growled. "Revenge!"

Torren and Dominc responded by grabbing all the wrapping paper they could get their hands on and scrambling to hide behind the Christmas tree.

"You all are picking up the mess!" Dinah informed them all, and laughed as three different paper balls flew at her instead.

**Anna**

"And then a strange man gave you his phone number," Belle said, unimpressed. She sopped up the rest of her syrup with her last bite of pancakes.

"He wasn't a strange man," Anna corrected. "He's a close friend of an old roommate's. They're practically siblings." She took a final bite of her biscuits and gravy before pushing the plate aside, full.

"But you've not seen him for years and he immediately came onto you."

Anna shook her head. "It wasn't like that."

Belle looked up, her mouth twisting into a half-smile. "I'm not trying to be negative," Belle said, touching the back of Anna's hand. "You're just important to me. You're my sister."

Anna covered Belle's hand with her free one and squeezed. "And you to me." Until Belle had found her one Christmas during undergrad, Anna had assumed she was alone in the world. Disentangling their hands, Anna asked, "Did Lia's father ask you to bring anything for dinner this holiday?"

Belle gave a small, private smile. "I think Paul has finally accepted that I am more the type to ride to war than keep the hearth. Lia might bring something though. How will you be occupying yourself this evening?"

"_IQ84_," Anna answered. "I bought the book when it came out, but I never had time to read it." After her traditional brunch with Belle, Anna enjoyed spending the rest of the day selfishly.

"You could call your stranger," Belle said.

"I told you," Anna replied. "It wasn't like that."

"I will kill him if he hurts you," Belle said, her tone light enough to give Anna pause. She caught Belle's hand with her own.

"I probably won't even call him anyway."

"You should," Belle said, surprising Anna. Belle smiled wryly. "My care for you isn't entirely selfish. I am only skeptical of the circumstances." Then pulling back and signaling for a waiter, she added, "Besides, even if he proves completely horrible, he may help us learn more about what the Arthurs are planning."

Anna laughed. "I'll call him," she promised.

"Good."

**Elliot**

Elliot was not sure whether he wanted to thank Gwen or curse her. She had shoved a large bowl of carrots, potatoes, onions, and peppers at him that needed peeling and chopping. Then she'd run off to find a store still open that had some missing, most likely entirely mythical ingredient, leaving Elliot alone with Tom.

Tom had only looked at the spread of tasks with a fond smile and said, "Guess we should start with the peeling. You want carrots or potatoes?" He'd opted for the potatoes considering he'd never realized carrots even required peeling.

Tom kept up an idle patter of anecdotes, filling the silence. His eyes kept flickering toward Elliot in concern, but he didn't ask or say anything. Elliot was grateful, but knowing that Tom was waiting for _something_ only made the guilt press harder.

Finally he broke. "Thanks, for including me and all. I probably could have found a way home."

Tom barely paused in his chopping. "Nonsense. We're here and you're family." He was so matter-of-fact that Elliot's breath caught. Earlier frustration and anger drained.

"But I'm not," he protested. He focused entirely on his knife and the chunks of potato it created.

"Elliot," Tom said in a tone of voice that allowed no leeway. "Look at me." Elliot looked up. Tom had put down his knife, his full attention on Elliot. "I bandaged your scraped knees when you fell off your bike and didn't want your mom to know. I helped coach your junior basketball team. When your mom had to go out of town that one weekend, I stayed home with you while you threw up every five minutes and had a fever like a space heater. Hell, I'm the one who talked with you about sex. I did not father you, but you _are_ my family."

Elliot tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. Tom picked up his knife again and use it to point at the beheaded peppers. "Why don't you wash out the seeds?" he asked. Elliot nodded. He reached for the plate of peppers and started for Gwen's sink.

"Oh, and Elliot?" Elliot paused. "I hope you have a couch or spare bed in that apartment of yours. I'm staying tonight. I think you and I have more to talk about."

"All right," Elliot said. His voice was strained, but he was starting to smile. "I'll see if I can find something."

"You better," Tom replied. "Don't want your mom to find out you'd let an old man sleep on the floor."

"She'd have my hide," Elliot agreed, the smile finally breaking free. "Gwen, too, probably."

Tom chuckled. "Nah, she takes her medical oaths too seriously to do that. She would give you a very serious and disappointed stare though." He mimicked such a stare.

Elliot sniggered. "Lord, save me from Gwen's glares."

When Gwen returned shortly after and, making a face, asked why they'd not yet finished the chopping, neither he nor Tom could hold in their laughter.

**Elle and Gavin**

"You're pacing," Gavin observed.

Elle forced herself to stand still. "I'm nervous," she admitted.

Gavin's expression softened. "Come here," he said, and then crooked his finger at her when she didn't immediately move forward.

She settled into his arms, resting her head against his chest as he pressed a kiss upon her hair. "My mom is going to love you," he said. "Believe me, I'm the one on the outs with her. Apparently I shouldn't have hidden you away for so long."

Elle took in a deep breath. "I'm just not very good at first impressions, usually," she said. "I met Gwen by falling down the stairs."

Gavin chuckled. "Really? You'll have to tell me that story sometime." He dropped another kiss onto her head. "My mom's going to love you," he repeated firmly. "You're beautiful, and sweet, and funny, and kind. She grilled me on your likes and dislikes, how we met, the works. She's especially looking forward to your recounting of the Carol."

"Okay," Elle said, taking another deep breath and trying to quell the nervousness that gnawed at her stomach. "Just—stop me if I go overboard, okay?"

Gavin didn't ask her what she meant. He released her slowly and took a step backwards, grinning at her in the same soft way he'd been looking at her ever since he'd given her the ring.

Elle grabbed his scarf and tugged him in for a quick kiss. "Let's go," she said.

"Okay," Gavin agreed. He flashed her a teasing grin. "Break a leg."

"Oh, shut up," Elle said, laughing, and dragged him by the scarf towards the door.

**Gwen and Arthur**

Once her father and Elliot had taken off, Gwen started putting away her gifts—clothing, an interesting medical documentary, a couple books, and a new plate for her cell phone.

A knock on her door interrupted a trip to her closet. Gwen laid her clothes over a couch arm and went to the door.

"I told you you'd forget some—Arthur. I thought you were Elliot. Why are you here? Not that I'm not happy to see you of course. But it's Christmas and—" Gwen stopped and took a deep breath. She'd not babbled since high school and was not about to pick up the habit again now. "Arthur. Merry Christmas. Would you like to come in?"

Arthur, smiling in amusement, shook his head. "I have a car waiting for me outside. I just wanted to bring this in." He pulled a small package from behind his back.

"You bought me a gift," Gwen said, reaching for the package. "I didn't get you anything."

Arthur shrugged. "I didn't expect you to. Go ahead, open it."

"Here? In the hall?" Gwen asked, her fingers already searching for a seam in the paper. "This isn't going to be like Ambrose's pen, is it?"

"Does he have to tell you everything?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes. "You'd think he just be grateful, but no." He stopped, his smile warming Gwen. "No, it isn't like Ambrose's pen."

Gwen rolled the paper into a ball and tossed it behind her. Giving Arthur one last measuring look, she opened the box. Laying across a pair of rolled newspaper balls was a delicate silver chain. "I can't take this," Gwen said, her gaze flying back up to Arthur. "This must've cost far too much."

She pushed the box back toward Arthur. He stopped her. "It cost me nothing," he said. "When my mother died, I stole her jewelry box before my father could pack it away with the rest of her belongings. When I noticed your ring, I thought this chain would be perfect to hold it when you couldn't wear it."

"I can't take your mother's jewelry," Gwen said softly. The chain was beautiful, however. The antique silver matched her ring as if it'd been made for it.

"I still have the box," Arthur said. "This is just one of her chains. Please take it, Gwen." Gwen bit her lip, but then lifted the chain from the box.

"Hold this." She shoved the box into Arthur's hands. Holding the chain on one wrist, Gwen pulled off her ring and strung it on the chain. Gwen could hear her heart beat. Seeing the ring dangling from the chain, she felt like the world quieted. "Help me." She held out the chain to Arthur. He traded her for the box. Gwen turned and drew her hair aside.

The chain rested cold around her neck as Arthur clasped it on. His fingers smoothed over her shoulders, and he pressed a warm kiss to the join at her collar. Gwen turned, intercepting his next kiss with her lips. Arthur pulled back, tracing her necklace down to the ring. "It suits you."

"Thank you," Gwen said. "For the gift, not the compliment. Though I am—"

Arthur quieted her babbling with soft kiss. "I should go," he said.

"Right. Your car is waiting."

"Right." He pulled away. She was pleased to note his cheeks were flushed. "Merry Christmas, Gwendolyn."

"Merry Christmas, Arthur," she replied.

"I'll just go then. I'll call you. We can do something." His hands did not move from her back and neck. His breath warmed her cheek.

Gwen smiled. "Something sounds wonderful. Good night." Then with one last kiss, she stepped back and gently closed the door between them.


End file.
